


As the World Falls Down

by fyredancer



Series: Two Against the World [3]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fantasy, M/M, Post-Apocalyptic, Science Fiction, Twincest, nephilim twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Bill have been reunited for months now, making music and carving out their own turf in New York City after demolishing the obstacles that have come their way. They have some hard and fast decisions about their future to make, though, as Orion closes in, and the twins need to choose a side.</p>
<p>Before they can, someone new hits town, and they're on a collision course for the twins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ ](http://s3.photobucket.com/albums/y67/Fyredancer0/Twin%20Picspam/?action=view%C2%A4t=AstheWorldFallsDown.jpg)

"Now this is how we _should_ have started our married life," Bill said, dropping his brand-new key fob onto the high metal table near the door and surveying the open layout of their home with utter delight. He did a slow turn, hands fluttering together in quick, excited claps.

Bill Kaulitz had half-expected Tom to carry him over the threshold before realizing his twin, half-demon and raised outside the safety of any human city Walls, was unacquainted with that marital custom.

"Are we married?" was all Tom had to say to that, stepping through the door and hooking it closed with one foot. He slipped his own key into one pocket of the over-sized gray hoodie he was wearing and looked at Bill, thick dark brows arched. His fall of twisted dark blond dreadlocks was pulled up off his makeup free, handsome face.

Bill scowled over at his gorgeous twin, his infuriating newly-discovered brother, his Nephilim mate. "As good as," he asserted. He adored Tom, loved him with an intensity that outstripped any emotion that had ever touched him in his life, and Tom had rapidly become the center of his existence, but there were some points on which Tom was sorely lacking.

Such as any sense of romance whatsoever.

Tom frowned at him. “When did that happen? Oh, was it when you filed the name change? Human institutions make no sense to me...I thought there was more involved than that.”

“Oh, you're hopeless,” Bill huffed. “It happened about five seconds before you decided to penetrate me for the first time.” He dumped his clutch onto the metal table and moved off with long-legged strides to explore their new digs. He was revising his initial plans of enthusiastic christening of the first of many rooms to an offended need to unpack.

The house opened up from a broad front hallway to a living room on the left side, a dining room visible through the right. Going straight back through the hall would lead to the ample kitchen, well-appointed enough that it was a shame it would be rarely used. There was a bathroom tucked to one side just before the kitchen. Bill drifted toward the living room, stretching his arms and enjoying all of the space. He had room to breathe, they had room to play...there was reinforced furniture arranged tastefully around the perimeter of the room that would be a real challenge to break, and Bill looked forward to testing it out.

After seizing all of Bushido's assets, Tom had gotten one of the flunkies to find a house for them. It had been in the final stages of construction, un-lived in, and so they had gotten a contractor called in to install certain modifications and reinforcements for the twins' preternatural and occasionally accidental displays of strength. Bill and his Tom were half-Nephilim, a race of beings known to the humans as demon, though more or less human in appearance with the exception of unusual height and coloration.

Bill and his twin could pass for human, though, unless someone was close enough to stare them in their crimson-pupiled eyes.

"Did I say something wrong?" Strong arms ringed Bill's waist from behind and warm lips nudged at his neck. Tom nipped him at a pulse point, molding their bodies together. "Is that something you want?"

Bill sighed, relieved in one way as Tom caught on to the fact that he'd irked him; sad in another. "That's not something we can have," he said, giving vent to his frustration that they _couldn't,_ that kind of acknowledgment was denied to them, and even joking about it with Tom fell flat because he didn't get it. Though he did a decent job blending in, Tom was too literal most times.

"We're mates," Tom said, nuzzling him again. He licked at Bill's neck and blew a delicate line of air to chase along the dampness of his mark. "Isn't that enough?"

There was a forlorn edge to the question that Bill knew was entirely his perception.

"Of course," Bill said, turning in Tom's arms until they were face to face. Tom didn't get it; he couldn't. He was Bill's twin, but thoroughly feral, raised to different standards and principals. It wasn't usually a source of strife for them.

Tom regarded him unsmiling, his face a mirror of Bill's - if Bill were to wipe away the makeup and lip gloss that he himself always wore. "What's missing?" he wanted to know. He cupped Bill's jaw, the warm brown of his eyes discerning. "You need me to do something?"

Easy as that, everything was right in Bill's world again. "You already do everything I need," he murmured, nudging Tom's nose to one side and planting a kiss to his lips, promise for later. He really did want to try out available surfaces and positions in every room of the house; he knew they were newlyweds, even if Tom's best correlation was newly-mated, and they met in the middle with phenomenal sex. However, though he was eveready and Tom always eager, Bill had certain priorities.

"Hey, wait--" Tom protested as Bill twisted away, heading for the far side of the living room. The far rear corner led into another room, a comfortable den area with couches and wall entertainment display and a workstation with an inset touch display.

"I'm inspecting," Bill informed Tom. "It's a very important part of home ownership."

"Want to inspect your ass," Tom muttered behind him, low but not too quiet for Bill's keen ears to discern. “Didn't we do that already? When we were deciding which property we wanted to move into?”

“That was the preliminary,” Bill responded absently, drifting into the den and admiring the finishing touches, color scheme and immense wall entertainment display and the couches with slip-covers that could be easily removed and laundered. “Before the contractors came in and finished everything to our specifications. I want to go through every room in the house...”

“I'd rather fuck in every room of the house,” Tom said, putting it out there. He came up behind Bill again as though to wrap him up in his arms for a second time.

“Later!” Bill exclaimed, eluding him with a laugh. “Ahh, I love this. Our own place, our own car...did everything come through with the transfer of ownership?”

Tom gripped the nearest piece of furniture, the back of the couch, until it creaked protest but nothing crumbled or broke under his hands. “Yeah, Martin whined a lot about it, but he came through after a certain amount of pressure.” His eyes glinted.

“No killing,” Bill felt the need to remind his twin.

“Martin doesn't know that,” Tom replied, appearing satisfied.

Bill snorted and turned for one of the house's back doors, which was a glass/durable steel alloy that would be difficult for either of them to accidentally put a hand through. The house had a wrap-around back deck and the den, kitchen, and dining room all opened onto it. They even had a patch of backyard, though it was small and fenced in and abutted by three neighbors.

It was a great deal like the home in which Bill had grown up with his mother and step-father, all in all, updated for the latest technologies and amenities, finished off with his own taste and concessions to anything Tom wanted, and he loved it already.

“Do we really have to inspect everything?” Tom wanted to know as Bill opened the door to the back deck.

Bill paused, inhaled, and gloried in the fact that they had an afternoon off, together. He still had a full load of college courses, band work with Tom and Gustav and Georg, and they had piled the burden of assuming home ownership and moving into their new place on top of that. They had finished unloading all of the boxes with the help of their bandmates and Andreas only that morning, and returned home after dropping off Andreas, whose rattletrap old car had finally given up the ghost and expired. It had been a busy, crammed-full day.

They hadn't even had sex yet, today.

No wonder Tom was anxious. Bill turned and gave his twin an alluring smile. “Want to get us a couple of drinks and join me on the deck?”

Tom brightened and moved off for the kitchen with hasty steps. He knew as well as Bill did that that was Bill's 'Tom's gonna get laid' voice, pending whatever request had been put forth.

Outside, the deck was new and smelled of the dark varnish that had been used to stain the wood a deep, rich burgundy, almost brown. There was a little lawn with a back garden and Bill found himself wondering if Bushido had ever intended to live here. The place didn't seem to be his style; it was more of a family home than the digs of a night club owner and crime mogul. Bill trailed one hand along the deck rail as he made his way to the set of deck chairs arrayed around a low ornamental table, large enough to use as a drink rest. He found himself picturing people in the other chairs; his mother, step-father, friends. Unlike his wicked loft apartment, which he and Tom had wrecked with their enthusiastic sex romps to the point they'd been evicted, this place was large enough to entertain.

The door to the kitchen slid open.

“Everything passing inspection?” Tom wanted to know. He held out a bottle for Bill's perusal.

“Perfect,” Bill claimed, referring to both the demesnes and Tom's drink selection. They twisted off the tops and stood side by side for a moment. Bill raised his bottle to clink against Tom's. “To our new home, together.”

“To keeping everything that's ours,” Tom responded, making Bill frown.

He wondered sometimes whether some of what Tom said was a Nephilim trait, or simply the way he'd been raised. From everything that Tom had told him, little as it had been, the life he'd had with Jorg had been drastically different from the loving, supportive environment that Simone and Gordon had provided for Bill while growing up. Tom possessed a singularly territorial view of the world, where everything seemed to be divided into “mine” and “other” and his main goal was to dominate the other.

It resulted in a basic lack of empathy, for one.

A small part of him was still irked over Tom's inability to comprehend why Bill might desire a human acknowledgment of their union, illogical and petty as he knew he was being.

Bill looked out over the little garden again as they seated themselves side by side in sprawling deck chairs built to their lanky dimensions. The sight of the flowers that he'd looked at earlier reminded him of the man who had died so that they could have this.

"Did we really have to kill him?" Bill wondered, resting his chin moodily on his hand, one elbow propped on the arm of the deck chair. "He bought me such nice things."

"Who, Bushido?" Tom snorted derisively. "I buy you nice things."

Bill glanced over at his twin from beneath lowered lashes. "You buy me nice things when I ask you to. It's not the same."

Tom tugged at the rim of his dark beanie, adjusting it higher on his forehead and raising his brows at Bill. "Why would I buy you something without you asking for it? Otherwise I wouldn't know you wanted it."

Bill grinned widely at his twin and shook his head. "Oh, Tomi, Tomi. I'm not sure if that's your Nephilim logic or just pure boy logic."

"You're a Nephilim, too, _and_ a boy, so it must be your human upbringing if you can't see my point of view on this," Tom retorted. "And _I_ am not a boy."

Bill giggled. "So you're a girl?"

Tom leaned over his side of the chair, looming toward Bill. "You're the--"

Bill clapped a hand over Tom's mouth. "If you finish that, I'm not letting you," he said obscurely.

Tom wilted.

“Bushido never bought you things,” Tom said after a moment, his brow furrowed as he stared out over the quiet patch of backyard. He tipped his bottle up to his mouth and glanced over at Bill, suspicious. “This house does not count. We took ownership after he was dead.”

“Yes, yes,” Bill murmured, flashing back to the instant that Bushido had pulled a gun on Tom. Bill had reacted instinctively, killing the man almost before he'd known he was going to do it. _No one_ threatened Bill's Tom. “He did _too_ buy me things.”

“Like what?” Tom growled, setting his drink aside, rubbing at the arms of his chair in clear readiness to get up and start something.

Bill glanced coyly through his lashes again. “Drinks, jewelry, a special mic just for when I'd sing at the Sweetbox...” He named the club that their band had played at most often; it had been under Bushido's management, and was another asset now in Tom's, therefore Bill's, possession now that Tom had taken over Bushido's share of the local crime syndicate.

“That prick!” Tom swore, swinging up out of his chair. He paced savagely back and forth before Bill, hard enough to have dented the decking if it weren't composed of plasteel molded to resemble wood. “If he weren't dead already, I'd go kill him!”

“It was nothing, Tomi,” Bill said, waving a dismissive hand.

Tom stopped at the foot of his chair, eyes burning. “Nothing, my genitals. He was _courting_ you, Bill...accepting those gifts was encouraging him!”

Bill's eyes widened. He'd never thought of it that way. People bought him things all the time. In fact, people had bought him things and in days past, he'd had sex with them, though he'd never considered it to be sex in exchange; the sex had been Bill's objective, the gifts incidental. Bushido's overtures gained new context as he remembered those details. He'd never really thought that once he had Tom, he should stop accepting the gifts as well as the sex.

“...Oops?” was all he could think to say.

Bill's eyes clouded as he set his drink down and regarded the artfully frayed denim covering his knees. He had been so careless, and a man had gone so far as to try to kidnap him and have him by force when Bill had accepted his gifts and not followed through. Was this all his fault? If he'd refused all of Bushido's offerings as well as his sexual favors...

“Bill,” Tom said, leaning over his chair to peer into his face. Tom wasn't empathetic, but he was responsive to Bill's cues. "That was on him. You may have encouraged him one way, given him mixed signals so far as his advances went, but even I know that in the human world if someone tells you no, the party's over."

Bill had never had a lover who paid him so much attention as Tom, who fulfilled him in and out of bed and gave him an all-encompassing sense of completion. A fair share of that was the twin bond, he knew, but Bill was also certain it was the fact that somehow, inexplicably, close as they were, they were mated. As Bill had explained once to Andreas, the mating drive for same-sex Nephilim had no reproductive component, but was rather centered on compatibility.

Apparently Bill and Tom were perfect for each other. It was a phenomenon which part of Bill had recognized since the first time he'd laid eyes on Tom, deepening when they had touched, solidifying to permanence the first time they'd had each other.

"Do me," Bill said, breathless. His petty annoyances were set aside. He was Tom's entirely, and wanted to prove it.

He made a small noise of discontent, recalling that the nearest tube of anything resembling lube was in his clutch all the way in the front hall, and he wanted Tom _now_. “I don't have anything.”

“I have lube in my pocket,” Tom informed him, the crimson centers of his rich brown eyes flaring wide. He tilted his head in a gesture that told Bill he was catching the scent of his arousal and, without ado, straddled Bill on the deck chair, fusing their mouths.

Bill moaned and every nerve in his body caught fire. This was exactly what he wanted; the weight of Tom atop him, a lazy afternoon to fuck and unpack and fuck some more. Sure, he had schoolwork. Sure, he had an increasing desire to drop out and devote most of his time to music and Tom, the most important things in his life – and not in that order. And sure, there was still someone out there targeting Bill, to the best of their knowledge, but right now none of it mattered. He wanted bare skin and sweat and everything implied by the offer of Tom's tongue in his mouth, slick and demanding.

Most importantly he wanted Tom _in_ him, by the fastest means possible.

“Do you want to...ahh!” Bill moaned, when their mouths parted and Tom fastened teeth on his throat again.

“Now,” Tom agreed, his voice a low growl.

“Yes, nnh, now,” Bill panted, his own question lost in the desire snaking through his belly, coiled low in his jeans.

Tom reached between their bodies and unsnapped Bill's jeans. “Wanna fuck you,” Tom spoke directly into his ear, in mimicry of the night they'd met, whether conscious or no. “Get up and turn around.”

It wasn't a question, and something primal in Bill was thrilled and resentful in response. He wasn't so easy, the dominant part of him wanted to snap. Tom sat up on his haunches and his eyes were expectant, smoldering. He reached down with one long, slender finger to trace over the lump in Bill's jeans, trailing down to rub against him through the fabric.

The anxious stuttering groan broke from Bill's throat, catching him by surprise. “Ohh...oh yes,” he hissed, overcome with a sudden vision of hanging over the chair with Tom hammering into him. “Whatever gets you in me fastest.” They hadn't had sex _all day_ ; he couldn't remember the last time that had happened.

He wanted it too; far too badly to resist. Bill flipped himself around with a needy utterance, bracing himself and reaching down with one hand to tug his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock.

"How do you want it?" Tom asked him, sending a caressing hand down Bill's back from the center line of his spine to rest on his ass.

Bill groaned and arched his back, the movement thrusting his butt at Tom. " _In_ me," he snarled, his breath quickening. He had no patience for questions when that was time they could spend coupled.

"Heh," Tom said, and there was the shiver- _zwip_ of a zipper parting, the rustle of clothes shifting. "Not much foreplay."

"When have I needed much with you?" Bill panted. It was lovely and he enjoyed the closeness when they took their time, dragged it out, but when Bill caught fire, he wanted everything all at once. "Tommm..." He hoped he was sufficiently expressing the need to have Tom _in_ him, now; his _lovertwinmate_ other half filling him up so good.

Tom stripped down Bill's jeans and boxers to just below his ass. Blunt slickness rubbed down into Bill's crack and he moaned, his very skin tingling with anticipation. Tom penetrated him, grabbing at Bill's starred hip with a strong hand and pushing at his back with the other, maneuvering Bill into an angle of his liking as he entered in one thick brilliant slide.

"Yes, ohhh, Tom," Bill groaned, his body tight and yet motionless with the immensity of his need. It was as though he was fixed in place while Tom speared into him insistently. "Fuck me."

With a wordless growl Tom snapped his hips back and forth, withdrawing partially and drilling right back into him.

It was quick, the pace urgent, brutal for anyone not Bill. Tom hung onto his hips and fucked into him fast and hard while Bill clung to the back of the deck chair, slats imprinting his knees and shins, and wailed as Tom gave it to him good. He was at the right angle to really plow into Bill's prostate and took advantage of that.

Bill hung on, as he'd imagined he would, and braced himself against Tom's demanding thrusts. Tom pressed in until Bill's world narrowed to the thickness of cock going in and out of him, the bite of Tom's hands on his hips, and the way their bodies fit together. Every time Bill got too close, shuddering, his balls tightening up, Tom would pull him up, wrapping an arm around him to bring them back to chest. That changed the entry, making Tom brush deep inside him maddeningly close, but no longer enough to push him over the edge.

It was maddening, and everything Bill wanted. He could go forever like that if not for the need to come at some point.

"Tomi," Bill uttered, tensing up.

"Bill, ahh, gonna come in you so hard." Tom was panting too now. He pushed Bill back down into a bowed posture and sped up, fingers stuck fast to Bill's hips.

"Make me come," Bill demanded. He clenched down on Tom where they were joined and moaned again as Tom pushed through the tightness, hitting his prostate again.

Bill whimpered and clung to the back of the deck chair, throwing his weight forward as Tom shoved him into a new, steeper angle. "Oh...ohh!" He was hovering so close, right there, almost...

With a gun-sharp crack, the back of the deck chair split beneath him. "Fuck!" Bill cried as he began to collapse forward.

"I've got you," Tom grunted, tugging Bill up and against his body again. With a squeal of distressed metal, the slats underneath them broke, dumping them onto the deck.

"Fucking hell, those goddamn contractors," Bill groused, bracing himself on hands and knees. He moaned again. Tom was still _in_ him, and clearly had no intentions of stopping. He pushed back, eyes fluttering closed as Tom returned him thrust for thrust, and apparently they were going to keep going, and that suited him _just_ fine. "The chairs were supposed to have metal cores..."

Tom reached past him, brushing Bill's jaw in passing, grasping the broken edge of one of the slats and turning it toward them. Metal glinted in the light. "I'm too much to be stopped by some metal," Tom asserted. He grasped Bill's hips and wallowed in him, skidding him forward on his knees until Bill gasped and firmed his stance, lifting his ass back into Tom's steady, deep thrusting action.

"Tomi...gonna come!" Bill warned him.

That only made Tom speed up, smacking their bodies together, frantic hot rutting that Bill wanted to go on for hours. He wanted to come and have Tom keep fucking him, make him come again. He glowed over the thought they could do that, if they wanted; they could thrash the entire deck to matchsticks and the only thing they'd have to contend with would be getting a contractor in to replace it all.

Bill groaned and lowered his cheek to the faux wood, planting one of his shoulders against the deck and arching his back. Tom was thrusting right down into the heated center of him, giving him the rapid flicks of his hips that meant he knew he was about to bring Bill off, and he was really working for it. Rapt in pleasure, Bill reached for his cock but Tom was faster, slapping his fingers away and wrapping a hand around Bill's cock, pulling in a demanding counter-rhythm to each punishing thrust.

With a broken wail, Bill convulsed and painted the deck with his release. He moaned and panted and stretched his arms out, tightening down around Tom with purpose. He wanted Tom to enjoy him every bit as much. "Tomi...yes, Tomi, I love it so much," Bill whispered. "Love you, love this." He rocked forward, clenching in rhythmic bursts as Tom pushed in. Bill continued to enjoy the sensation of Tom's hard cock going in and parting his flesh even though his own climax was spent. This was how they could keep going, sometimes, caught up in a non-stop loop of fucking; Tom would make him come, and keep going. He'd pound away ruthlessly at his prostate until Bill got hard again and he'd come and they'd switch positions; Bill would climb back on and grind until Tom was hard again too.

The ringing in his ears confused him for a long moment as he panted, mewling and pushing up and basking in the enjoyment of Tom moving inside him, holding himself against Bill in the distinctive slowed, subtle pulsing that meant he was coming, too.

"Bill...Bill, you're so good," Tom crooned.

Bill moaned agreement, only in his head it was reversed; Tom was so good, making him want to flip them over and climb into his lap and start all over again. Slower this time, with hot, tongue-heavy kisses...

The ringing started up again and Bill lifted his head, pushing up onto both arms. "Tom, that's the doorbell."

"So?" Tom grunted, still buried inside him.

"Tom," Bill cried, smacking the deck and struggling to rise. "Someone's coming to visit, it's our very first guest in our new home."

"Ugh, fine," Tom responded, pulling out. He stroked the sweaty skin of Bill's lower back for a moment before reaching to pull his boxers up for him.

"Thank you," Bill said sweetly. He got up, climbing out of the remains of the broken deck chair and tugging his clothing into place, zipping his jeans and turning around to scrutinize Tom, who had tucked himself in and had his arms folded. Aside from some light sweat dewing his face and neckline, he was presentable. "How do I look?"

Tom opened his mouth.

"Never mind," Bill snapped, seizing Tom's hand and drawing him along through the kitchen door. Tom hadn't learned the art of flattery or the polite social niceties; he would flat-out state that Bill looked like he'd just gotten fucked.

As they whirled through the kitchen Bill had a second to admire the bright, open layout and the color scheme he'd chosen before he rushed them up the front hallway. The door bell was still ringing. He had a second to worry that it might be one of Tom's shady business associates as he opened the door and presented an eager smile to the front doorstep.

"Greetings!" announced a perky, heavily lamp-tanned blond woman. Her face was peppered in freckles and her blond hair was shiny, layered around her face in sleek waves. "Welcome to the neighborhood, I'm Sabina Vanderbeek and I'm the head of the welcome committee." An enormous basket was in her arms, tied off with a crimson and gold-threaded ribbon.

Bill peered interestedly at the contents. Wine and cheese. "I didn't know people were still doing this sort of thing," he said, beaming at her as Tom slipped a proprietary arm around his shoulders.

"We're bringing the tradition back," Sabina declared. She looked over the two of them with a keen sort of curiosity.

"How kind," Bill declared, delighted. "I'm Bill and this is my Tom..."

"Oh, my," Sabina said, appearing flustered, seeming to take in at last Bill's tousled appearance and red-cheeked satisfaction; Tom's rumpled clothes and aura of looming smugness. "I didn't mean to, er, interrupt anything."

"We were having sex," Tom stated outright, tightening his arm around Bill's shoulder. "But we were done, or we wouldn't have answered the door."

Nervous laughter from Sabina. "I, ooh, I imagine not!"

"This is very kind of you," Bill said, changing the subject, contemplating giving a sharp elbow to Tom's ribs yet recognizing it as useless. His twin wouldn't acknowledge what he'd said to be inappropriate anyhow.

"You must be newlyweds," Sabina observed with a toothy white smile.

"Yes," Bill said firmly, before Tom could get his version in. He thought he heard Tom snicker and ignored it. "Would you like to come in? We're still getting settled, there's boxes everywhere, but..."

"No worries," Sabina said, hefting the basket in her arms.

Now Bill elbowed his twin.

Tom blinked, furrowed his brow, and didn't get it until Bill gestured. "Ah. I can take that, if...?" Tom trailed off as though giving the woman a chance to keep the gift basket for herself.

"It is a little heavy," Sabina said, giving Tom a friendly smile that was a shade past the boundary of flirty.

Bill narrowed his eyes at her. "We really appreciate you going to the trouble," he said, his mind working busily through the implications of the gift. Thank-you notes, invitations to come visit the house when they had everything unpacked, neighborhood block parties, a housewarming...Bill narrowly prevented himself from palming his forehead. A _housewarming_. Maybe they should have taken the exclusive penthouse property.

"It's no trouble at all," Sabina demurred with a friendly smile. "So how did the two of you come to move to our neighborhood? My goodness, you're both so young, practically babies."

Tom was giving her a death glare and Bill had to step on his twin's foot. "We came into an inheritance," Bill said smoothly. "I'm still in school, though, and Tom is getting into managing our business affairs."

"Oh, my!" Sabina declared, crossing her arms and widening her big brown eyes. She batted her thick lashes at Tom. "And you're both so handsome. How long have the two of you been together?"

"A few months," Bill replied with a friendly smile.

"And married already!" Sabina exclaimed as though this were the first time such a union had happened since the Rising. "Well, boys, congratulations and I hope it lasts." She presented a bright smile.

Bill twined his hand with Tom's in hopes of preventing the imminent homicide. "We really appreciate the well wishes," he said, crinkling his eyes up at her in the appearance of genuine good humor. He was beginning to search for ways to shut down the conversation, and stating that he and Tom were really itching for round two was beginning to seem appealing. He tried to remember the manners that his mother had ingrained on him since childhood in the hopes it would keep his Nephilim nature constrained beneath a veneer of politeness.

"Well, I won't keep you!" Sabina said, cocking her head and giving them a knowing glance. "Lots to do, I'm sure, with the unpacking and settling in and all."

"Yes, lots," Bill agreed, resuming a charming smile. "And where do you live, Sabina?"

"Across the street and down one house, the one with blue siding and brick-red eaves," Sabina said, now fluttering her eyelashes at him. "My husband and I have been there for three years now. It's such a great neighborhood, Bill, Tom. I know you're going to love it here."

Bill contained a grin. "You have a beautiful home, Sabina, and we'll have to have you and your husband over for a drink some evening when we're settled in."

"Sounds like a plan!" Sabina said, her smile widening. "You two have yourselves a fantastic day, now, and enjoy that gift basket!"

"We will; thank you so much."

Saying their goodbyes, Tom drew him back inside and Bill shut the door. Somewhat worried, Bill glanced over at his twin to find Tom's lips curving up in a wicked smirk. Tom set the basket aside and tugged him into his arms, pressing him against the door and resting their foreheads together.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Tom asked rhetorically. "We should have gone with the penthouse, huh."

Bill grinned up at him. "Don't worry, Tomi; I'm sure we'll drive off all attempts at socialization once they realize we really do screw like newlyweds." Now that they were done, Bill recalled moaning rather loud and wantonly on the back deck - _someone_ must have heard. Bill had lived in a close-knit neighborhood for most of his life. If one person in the neighborhood heard it, everyone would know about it.

"Newly-mated," Tom asserted, and licked his neck.

Bill whimpered and tugged his head close, teasing his fingernails up into the soft, fine hair at Tom's nape. "So let's go again," he breathed. "You pick the room, this time."

Tom's eyes kindled with pleasure and he tightened his arms around Bill, kissing his neck again before sweeping him right off his feet.

"Every room," he rasped, "but let's start with the kitchen and make sure those countertops are sturdier than the deck chairs, yeah?"

"Yes, gods, right now," Bill urged, so eager he couldn't be bothered to protest Tom depriving him of mobility.

An auspicious start to the next stage of their lives together, Bill thought happily, before he quit thinking at all.


	2. my sweet prince

Bill bounced down the staircase with a spring in his step, satisfied with life, the general state of the universe, and his sex life. He enjoyed any kind of sex Tom gave him, but sometimes he loved to struggle, put up a fight and be made to cooperate, and Tom was just the one to give it to him. Bill had never been with a man as strong and durable as Tom, and together they could be unrestrained, without limit.

That morning he'd been in one of _those_ moods, pulling the covers back up over his head after he'd finished the morning coffee Tom so-considerately brought him. After that, they had ripped a duvet, tested the tensile strength of the headboard again, and there had been a whole lot of screaming and tearful 'no's as Tom perpetrated a thorough ravishment.

Bill grinned over at Tom as he reached the bottom step, and Tom returned the smile, raising his brows.

"Why am I driving you to campus so early this morning?" Tom wanted to know, palming his key fob.

"I've got a meeting with a guidance counselor," Bill returned, nonchalant.

Tom's eyes acquired that feral glint. "You shouldn't have showered, after."

“For Zeus's sake, Tom,” Bill said, somewhat exasperated with his brother's possessive instincts, though he knew he himself could be almost as bad when some deluded female was sniffing around Tom. “The guidance counselor is not going to try to rape me over the desk.”

“He definitely wouldn't if he knew you were mated,” Tom said. He held the door open for Bill, waving him through.

Bill snorted. “My guidance counselor is a woman, Tom.”

“My statement stands. You're very rape-able.”

“And I've told you before,” Bill continued, brushing off the rape statement because that was their pretend game and he could take care of himself, “human senses aren't that keen.”

“You keep telling me, but I have a hard time believing it,” Tom argued, aiming his fob at the sleek silver car in the driveway and unlocking it. “They've got to smell _something_ , Bill. Their senses can't possibly be that dull. I mean, how could they all possibly still...be alive?”

“That's our mother you're lumping in there with the rest,” Bill warned. He inhaled and looked around the bright, tidy neighborhood, rows of houses and neatly-trimmed green lawns. It was an idyllic scene that could have been lifted from his childhood memories, unlike the litter-strewn, rundown neighborhood he'd been housed in for the past few months, or the beehive dormitory he'd stayed in before breaking so much dorm property he'd been regretfully but firmly been asked to leave.

This was the kind of neighborhood in which Bill had grown up, and it gave him an odd sense of nostalgia to enter into it as an adult, with Tom at his side. In a way, it was as though his life was back on course, restored to wholeness with the addition of Tom to his life.

“Why does she want to see you so early?” Tom asked as they climbed into the car. A recent purchase, along with a great deal of other new things in their life, the car had quickly climbed into Tom's top five most prized possessions. He expressed the willingness to drive Bill anywhere, to which Bill would retort Tom already drove him crazy, so anywhere else wasn't much of a stretch.

“Because we needed to meet, and it was a time she could slot me in?” Bill mumbled, wondering the same. He hated morning sunlight with a passion unlike any other, except perhaps for his sheer hatred for vintage couture knock-offs.

“I'll bet she wants something in her slot,” Tom muttered, knuckling over the wheel with a vengeful look.

“Tom, if you break that steering wheel...!” Bill warned, more put off by the prospect of not getting to his meeting on time than he was by Tom's resurgence of possessiveness. “And no, before you ask again; you are not accompanying me to my meeting, or any of my classes throughout the day.” He could understand it, though. Bill had only recently been kidnapped, after all, and the man had intended on rape however impossible Bill would have made it for him.

“Can't,” Tom replied, slouching in his seat as he revved the car down the street. “I've got a meeting with Chakuza and some of the others.”

“Ugh,” Bill responded, rolling his eyes. Tom's newly-assumed status of crime boss bemused him. He was sure it had to do with the acquisitive Nephilim drive, as well as the way Tom had been raised by their overlord father, but couldn't he sublimate it into something healthy, like Bill's clothing and footwear collection? Though Tom was beginning to build up an impressive array of hats. “Just get me to campus, Tomi. I want to find out what Ms. Claiborn has to say.”

The request for the meeting had come at the tail end of the chaos surrounding the previous week. Between moving, the aftermath of taking over Bushido's interests in the local crime syndicate, and class, Bill had been swamped. Soon he would have to start worrying about studying for semester finals...

“Why are you still in school, anyhow?” Tom questioned, steering the car onto the main road.

Bill glanced up at him, huffing quietly. This again. “Why does it bother you so much?” Tom had agreed to stay with him in the human world, for now. After their reunion, they had discussed what to do, and Bill wanted to stay right where he was, nothing else in his life changing with the exception of Tom filling up every part of what had previously been hollow.

That included school. Bill was one of a handful of Gabriel Scholarship recipients, because he was good at everything he chose to do, including getting an education.

“It doesn't bother me,” Tom denied. “It confuses me. We have so much to do--”

“And plenty of time,” Bill interrupted. “I like to learn, Tom. You could stand to learn a few things.” He bumped a fist across Tom's shoulder.

Tom flicked him a glance, not annoyed, merely neutral, and restored his gaze to the road. “I learn about things when I need to know them, not for the sake of cramming and regurgitating ideas. Besides, I had enough schooling at House Kaulitz to last me, for now.”

Bill sighed and crossed his legs. “Well, I'm enjoying it.”

“You could be learning to fight,” Tom insisted.

“We'll still do that,” Bill answered. A vague smile curved his lips. He and Tom had never sparred, not in earnest. He was looking forward to truly matching his strength to Tom's, for once, and seeing where it took them. Though he was worried whether he could actually learn fighting from Tom, given that the struggling he'd engaged in with his twin so far had conditioned him to expect a very specific conclusion.

Fighting, then fucking.

“Don't get turned on; I don't want to have you in the car,” Tom warned. “It's still got the new upholstery, haven't replaced it with something sturdier.”

Bill twitched his nose. “I wasn't that horny,” he denied, grinning at the reminder that Tom's senses were keen enough to scent out his arousal. They were so tuned in to each other that it was almost a kind of telepathy.

“Horny enough you're making me think about it,” Tom said. He paused at a light and grinned over at Bill, flicking his lip ring in a flirtatious gesture.

Bill groaned and squeezed his legs shut. “Don't even. I need to get to my appointment.”

The drive into campus was further than the distance Bill had traveled when he lived at his now-vacant loft apartment, but the trip took about the same amount of time given Tom's driving style and the traffic he evaded. Bill was deposited at the curbside nearest to his guidance counselor's building with ten minutes to spare.

"Mmph, no, we are not making out for the next ten minutes," Bill protested, pulling away and unbuckling when Tom tried to slip tongue into their goodbye kiss. "I'm going to get me more coffee."

"Come back and let me give you a hickey," Tom ordered.

Bill stuck his tongue out and slammed the car door with a laugh when Tom's hooded eyes flared with unmistakable hunger. He blinked when the powered window rolled down.

"I'll pick you up here," Tom informed him. "Right where I left you."

Bill rolled his eyes and gave his twin a wave, almost a pushing gesture, to urge him on. He didn't take Tom's suspicious "everyone wants to have sex with Bill" approach to others personally because in his experience, everyone _did_ want to have sex with him. He did want Tom to acknowledge he could take care of himself, exceptional circumstances aside, and had done a successful job so far in his seventeen years. The fact that he might be subject to more peril in his life due to his association with Tom had occurred, but he'd agreed to learn to fight and that was an important compromise.

Equipped with coffee from his favorite shop across the street from campus, Bill took himself back to the building where the theatre arts and English majors' administrative staff nestled uneasily side by side. Vanderbrant was more of a research campus, but did give a nod to the liberal arts. Bill knew for a fact, though, that he was the only liberal arts major to have received a Gabriel scholarship in his year.

Ms. Claiborn had a stuffy, windowless office in the middle of a grid of identical offices. Once again Bill beat back claustrophobia and swore to himself he and Tom would never be tied to a desk and such a joyless, canned air and artificial light existence. The room was square, four white walls hung with inspirational photo displays that depicted things like a time-lapse flower blooming, captioned with the word, "GROWTH."

His advisor was an average woman, neither plain nor pretty, and she regarded Bill with a fussed expression as he seated himself in the chair across from her cluttered desk. She was decades older than Bill, though he supposed that mattered little in the context of his own lifespan, and her oval face was lined, though not heavily. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun haloed with flyaways.

“Bill,” Ms. Claiborn greeted him. “Do you know why you're here today?”

Bill raised a brow at this salutation and set his clutch in his lap, hands folded one over the other. “Funny you should say that, as I was expecting you'd tell me when I got here,” he replied. He was a first-year college student and he hadn't finished his first semester of college. He had figured they were meeting to discuss his proposed slate of classes for the next semester, for which everyone would be registering soon, but the pointed nature of her question made him wonder.

“Your grades,” Ms. Claiborn said, folding her mouth in a prim line.

“Oh,” Bill said, wilting somewhat. She had hit his weakness.

“They've dropped,” Ms. Claiborn said. “A lot. Your midterms were good, but...”

“I know,” Bill sighed, resisting the urge to palm his forehead.

“What happened, Bill?” Ms. Claiborn asked outright. “You were doing extremely well, and then virtually all of your grades took a steep downward trend.”

Tom happened, Bill thought, but did not say so. “I got married,” he replied instead, because it was easier to say that than explain that his twin had found him, and Bill had lost a couple of weeks due to non-stop fucking. Saying he'd become partnered or had taken a lover didn't imply the permanence of Bill's circumstances, yet bringing out the twin card seemed to make most humans queasy. Bill's Nephilim nature did not acknowledge human taboos, even though there was no law against incest. There had been at one point, and as Bill's mother had told him more than once, human prejudices lingered.

Ms. Claiborn blinked. “At your age?”

Bill nodded. “It was very sudden, but he's perfect for me,” he said solemnly.

“Even though you've let it affect your grades,” Ms. Claiborn observed.

Bill sighed. He did regret that, so he had no response.

“You won't keep your scholarship if you don't maintain a certain grade point average, Bill; do you remember that?” Ms. Claiborn told him.

“Ah,” Bill said, and folded his hands. “You think I'm going to lose the scholarship in my first semester.” He frowned. Now he understood why he'd been called into the office. Departmental units were competitive. If Bill lost his scholarship, it would be a blow to liberal arts. He was being hauled in and taken to task. This wasn't a counseling session so much as it was a lecture.

"You missed two solid weeks of classes--" Ms. Claiborn began.

"I was newly ma--married," Bill stumbled, almost saying mated rather than the truth he'd decided to present.

"You couldn't wait until the post-semester break for the honeymoon?"

Bill stared at her for an instant, trying to figure a polite inquiry into whether she had ever had compulsory sex. Not simply irresistible sex, not very desirable sex, but sex that he literally had to have in order to continue existing and remain sane. "Ms. Claiborn," he replied, brows raised. "It was that or have Tom accompany me to all my classes, and possibly risk becoming a disruption if the urge should take us."

"If the...oh." The counselor widened her eyes at him. "Good lord, Bill, are you..."

Bill tried to remember if she _knew_. There was a short list of people who were informed of his Nephilim nature on a need to know basis, and others who simply recognized it.

"...an erotomaniac?" Ms. Claiborn concluded.

Bill scoffed. "You've never been a newlywed." He couldn't help it; the words popped out unbidden.

Ms. Claiborn pressed her lips together again. "There's no need to get personal," she said, snippy.

"You started it," Bill pointed out. He gave older adults the respect they were due, as his mother had taught. This counselor was losing points.

"That still doesn't explain..." Ms. Claiborn began, turning red. She shook her head. "Never mind. Bill, do you have a plan to address this situation? Your grades..."

"I do," Bill interrupted. "I'll ace all my midterms. Or I'll lose the scholarship."

Ms. Claiborn's mouth dropped open. "You shouldn't really look at losing the scholarship as part of the plan, Bill."

Bill just looked at her. "You have to take defeat into consideration in order to plan for success." He tended to forge ahead without considering failure, which was why he'd gotten their band logo tattooed on the back of his neck, but Tom had taught him that particular koan of war.

Ms. Claiborn sighed. "That's your plan."

Bill reached for his school bag. "Yes, is that all?"

"How is your home environment?" Ms. Claiborn probed. "Stable? Supportive of your studies?"

 _Sexy,_ Bill thought, and tried not to roll his eyes. "Look, I appreciate the reminder, Ms. Claiborn. I know I need to raise my grades in order to keep the scholarship. I should be able to get top marks on all my finals, all right? And if I don't, I lose the scholarship. Simple as that."

"I worry you're not taking this seriously enough," Ms. Claiborn said.

"Funny," Bill replied. "Tom thinks I'm taking it far too seriously. Thanks for your, er, encouragement." He gathered his things and left with a quick goodbye, not really lingering for an answering farewell.

Mondays, Bill's class schedule was stacked, heavy around late morning and afternoon. He had hauled ass to campus at an ungodly hour – eight a.m. was for the gainfully employed, or undead creatures like lawyers – and all for nothing, so far as he was concerned. The conversation they'd just had could have been accomplished in an email message. He retrieved his mobile from his clutch, intending to send a message to Tom inviting him to return to campus for brunch and maybe a quickie before Bill's first class, then remembered that his twin was meeting with... _associates_. Bill's lip curled.

He sought out one of the stone benches that lined a walkway overlooking a fountain juncture and kept his mobile out, pressing speed dial. It had been a while since he'd spoken with his mother, who had invited them both to visit for dinner or no reason in particular once their mating instincts were better under control. Bill thought they qualified now; or at least, it was as good as it was going to get, given Tom's predilection for hauling him into the nearest available enclosed space sometimes.

"Hi, Mom?" Bill said, holding the device to his ear and watching the play of the fountain caress the air with arching plumes of spray.

"Billy," Simone greeted him warmly. "How are you and Tom?"

"All moved in," Bill replied, pleased about it.

"Ah, but are you unpacked?" Simone returned.

"Pfft," Bill responded, waving a hand. He inspected it critically. His polish could stand to be touched up. "How are you and Dad doing?" His mother had married Gordon Trümper when Bill was still young. A musician and teacher, it had been Gordon who had showed Bill how to channel a good deal of his angst and emotion into music. Though Bill had always known Gordon was his step-father, he had grown up calling him 'Dad.'

Given how Bill's own father had behaved, snatching Tom from the cradle and taking him from Bill's life, Bill didn't think his paternal affiliations were likely to change.

"Good," Simone said, her voice warming. "We miss you, and I'm sensing an upcoming visit."

Bill chuckled. His mother was a witch, an extremely powerful one, which had led Jorg Kaulitz to choose her as the mother of his offspring to begin with. "That's what I was calling to talk about."

"You and Tom are somewhat less overtly amorous?" Simone said, her tone turning a trifle acidic. It was a reminder that Simone's knowledge of Bill's relationship with his twin did not equal approval.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Bill said, evasive. "But we can keep from having sex on the dinner table, if you like."

"I'd like," Simone shot back, tart now.

"Relax, we're past that point, where sex is a requirement and not a side benefit."

Simone snorted.

"Mostly," Bill tacked on, grinning in the direction of the fountain. There was no fooling his mother.

"Tomorrow, then?" Simone proposed.

Bill wrinkled up his nose. "No, we've got a gig tomorrow night."

"On a Tuesday?" His mother sounded appalled. "Billy, that's a school night..."

"I'm not in high school anymore," Bill reminded her. "I'm an adult, and I have a job as well as school – a job that I love."

"And you're capable of making your own decisions," Simone said with a sigh. "The next day, then?"

Bill tried to recall his schedule, and whether there was anything on the horizon besides studying and gracing another room of the house with their sexual escapades. "Sure...?"

"We'll plan on it," Simone decided, "and you'll let me know if anything changes."

"I can do that," Bill said with a nod that his mother wouldn't see, but with her abilities, might possibly infer.

After saying their goodbyes, Bill stowed his mobile in his clutch once more and watched the prismatic reflection of sunlight glittering off the water fountain. He cherished the continued sense of well-being, the certainty that all was right with his world, but clearly there was work to be done, still.

Bill had some major decisions yet before him.


	3. Run This Town

Tom spun the wheel of his sleek sports car and gunned into the corner, a sharp grin stretching his mouth wide as the vehicle handled flawlessly, taking the turn with barely a screech of distressed rubber. Driving was one of his new passions. He inhaled deeply, taking in the last lingering bit of Bill's scent that clung to the leather upholstery of the passenger seat.

Well, nothing would overtake that particular passion.

He filed away a mental note to have someone detail the car and replace the interior with material a good deal more sturdy, in order to spread Bill in the back seat. He wanted to enjoy his mate the way they had been going at it in every room of the house. Now _that_ satisfied certain deeply territorial, possessive instincts in him, and it was a trend he intended to continue with Bill's full cooperation.

Though Tom had difficulty with the notion of his twin continuing to waste time on the rote curriculum of the so-called higher education to which Bill had subjected himself, there were certain advantages to Bill's day-long preoccupation. The separation, however unwanted, allowed Tom to pursue certain diversions that Bill found more distasteful.

On Tom's part, he could spend the rest of his life with Bill attached to his hip and find that only right, natural. It would take him at least another seventeen years to reach any point of easement, of not _needing_ Bill with such intensity. He thought perhaps that was one reason they had fallen into a sexual relationship so easily, regardless of the mating aspect – they needed that much, to be close to each other that intimately as well as every other way in order to make up for being kept from one another for so long.

However, there was one venture Tom had embarked on for which Bill seemed reluctant to follow. When they had killed Bushido, or rather, when Bill had struck in self-defense and Tom covered the evidence, Tom had seized control of all Bushido's interests, including his surprisingly large slice of the local crime syndicate.

The fact that Bushido had been so heavily entangled in the underground yet spent a good deal of his time at a club like the Sweetbox had seemed to indicate two things – that the man used the place as a front for his operations, or that he had been shifting his attention there as part of a lure for Bill.

Whatever the reasoning behind it, Bushido was dead now, therefore no longer a threat.

The only thing that Tom regretted about the situation was the fact that it troubled Bill, having killed a man – a defenseless one, to hear him tell of it. Bushido had pointed a gun at Tom, he'd pulled the trigger, yet with their reflexes both of them could have avoided it.

Bill had gone for the kill on instinct.

Tom couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for _that_. If anything, his twin's instincts could use more honing.

He pulled his car into the lot of the nightclub complex, one of the other properties that Bushido had managed. It wasn't the Sweetbox; Tom had moved primary operations to the more upscale club within the dead man's turf, an elegant gem of a nightclub for a somewhat richer crowd. He knew that Bushido had been dangling the lure of gigs at that particular club before Bill, perhaps as part of his master plan to get Bill to sleep with him, but now that Tom was going over the club's books, he found that it didn't possess the kind of clientele that would appreciate rock music or anything more challenging than the music piped through the sound system.

The lot had an 'owner' space and Tom backed his car into it with a sense of satisfaction. He enjoyed acquiring things, but especially turf, power. He and Bill should be building their empire together, which was why he begrudged the time schooling took Bill away from him, but respected his twin's needs for differing interests. For now.

A man in a dark suit and a crew cut stood waiting at the edge of the lot. He pitched a cigarette to the pavement when he saw Tom coming.

"Any news?" Tom began, approaching with his hands tucked away in his pockets.

Chakuza lifted his chin. "We've been going over Wall breaches, other sources that may have put the hit out on Bill, but we're coming up with nothing, boss."

Tom pulled in a dissatisfied breath, glowering from beneath the bill of his cap at the second in command that he'd inherited.

Chakuza raised both hands as though to show he was unarmed, though Tom could smell the metal tang of weapons on him; saw the bulge of the gun beneath the man's suit jacket. "Hey, boss, I'm giving you the info. It would help if we knew a little more about what we're looking for."

Tom headed for the club, a scowl settling into place. Chakuza fell into step beside him. "You know everything you need to know – someone tried to kill my brother – someone besides your men. They were demon-blood like me. What more are you expecting without me doing all the legwork for you?"

Chakuza made a noise somewhere between scoffing and disbelief.

"What do you have, then?" Tom pressed. He had taken to showing up on all of his properties on an irregular basis, keeping the underlings off-balance, inspecting operations and checking figures on the accounting both official and unofficial. It was a good method of getting to know all of his recent acquisitions and letting his new subordinates know that he was hands-on, and apt to show up when they least expected. "You sent a message asking me when I'd be by; it implied you had some intel."

Chakuza gave him a nod and held the door for Tom, waving him on into the back areas of the club. "I've got something. Maybe it'll make more sense to you."

Tom checked his corners as he entered the back corridor. It was automatic as breathing to him – checking for ambush, scanning his surroundings for potential exits as well as enemies. "Let's hear it." The back halls of the Caged Peacock were dank, even gritty, in a huge contrast to the posh, genteel luxury of the front of the house. The manager's office was well-outfitted, though, and even had an attached bedroom that alternately amused Tom and made him seethe when he thought about the man who had formerly owned it.

They entered the office and Chakuza shut the door behind them, leaning against it and crossing his arms.

Tom ambled into the office, once again taking in the décor, the leather couch, the bar with a high-gloss finish stacked with highballs and wine glasses, the four-cornered office desk that looked sturdy enough to stand up to even Tom's best efforts if he were to lay Bill across it and go for it. He propped himself against the desk and leaned back, eyeing the other man as though to tell him to get on with it.

"There have been inquiries about _you_ ," Chakuza continued. "Not only limited to those in our line of work, who are naturally curious."

"Outsiders?" Tom wanted to know, alert. He was certain that the attempts on Bill had to be related to their father. Though he'd left House Kaulitz over a year ago in order to find his twin, he'd left no word with his father as to what his intentions had been. Jorg wasn't stupid, though. He knew that Tom had been yearning for his twin all his life, despite having been raised with no knowledge of him. It was only a matter of time until Jorg sent someone looking for Tom and he would know to look in New York.

"No, that's the strange part," Chakuza denied. "It's coming from inside."

"Police?" Tom demanded, alert for that. He was prepared for that, expecting it, to a degree. There was a registry of Nephilim within the New York City Wall and it would only be a matter of time until Tom or his twin's name was connected to the deaths that had occurred in the neighborhood where they'd been living.

"No, Orion, as best we can figure."

Tom tensed. Orion Corporation's motives were less known to him than the city's simple, straightforward approach to prosecuting felonies and ejecting extreme violators from the city boundaries. In a sense, he worked for the mega-corporation himself, going hunting for lesser demons and turning them in for bounty. They were immensely powerful and professed to be operating for the benefit of the human race, putting their latest cutting-edge research into defending human territory or going on offense against Nephilim-orchestrated assaults.

An organization with a mission so altruistic was instantly suspect to Tom, no matter how much money they were making in the process.

"They're looking for information on me?" Tom pressed. "Not Bill?" That was an interesting wrinkle, and one he hadn't considered.

"Boss, is there something I ought to know?" Chakuza said outright, dropping into a leather-backed chair without asking whether he could be seated.

Tom tolerated the informality to a certain point. His father's approach to leadership had been very top-down, authoritarian, establishing rank and protocol and all that. Tom didn't care about that sort of thing so much. He was results-driven, not caring so much what his flunkies called him so long as they did their job.

And understood that they _were_ flunkies, and each and every one of them was replaceable.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, being deliberately obtuse.

Chakuza frowned at him and adjusted his hat to a jaunty angle. "You told us to look for someone who was asking for Bill, or interested in Bill, or any information that led or implied someone had put a hit out on him. And you said to keep an eye out for bloods such as yourself."

"Yeah," Tom confirmed, folding his arms. "That's all there is to know."

Chakuza shrugged. "All right..."

"Any unusual kills lately, in our territory or someone else's?" Tom asked. Lower ranks of overlapping organizations tended to talk with one another, Tom knew that much. He hadn't gone so far as to establish a network of spies throughout the city, yet, but that would be his next step.

Once again Tom found himself thinking nostalgically of Bill, though they'd been separated less than an hour yet, and how his twin should be here at his side helping to solidify their power base. Everything that Tom did was for Bill, after all, and assembling the building blocks of power was diverting, to be sure, but basically a way to kill time until he was with Bill again. It was useful for other things, of course; the money to give them a comfortable lifestyle and the presents of which Bill seemed so enamored, and above all protection to keep his twin safe.

"No kills," Chakuza denied, looking away from Tom's razor-sharp appraisal. He swallowed. "Not since you..."

"...killed your former boss?" Tom filled in the uncomfortable blank. "Hard feelings, Chakuza?"

Chakuza sucked in a breath, glowering at the wall. "He was my friend."

"Boss," Tom reminded him, because he was informal, but demanded at least that much respect.

Chakuza's burning eyes returned to his. "Bushido was my friend, _boss_."

"And I offered you the chance to settle the score," Tom said, staring the older, bigger man down.

Chakuza was first to look away, conceding the win to Tom.

Tom's mouth quirked. He hadn't lost a staring contest since the last time Bill had pounced and tickled on him, and that wasn't playing fair. Not to mention, someone like Chakuza wasn't going to get that kind of option.

This was what he'd been meant for, Tom knew. He circled the office desk and settled into the embrace of the leather chair. He had been raised to rule territory. For the first heady months after he had reunited with Bill, kicking around and spending his energy on bounty hunting had been enough to fill the time, but Tom had been getting increasingly restless.

“How is the house, boss?” Chakuza wanted to know, taking the cue that they were moving on so far as business matters were concerned.

“It's great,” Tom said, waving a hand. “Suitable so far as our needs are concerned, and everything Bill wanted, besides. We will need to get someone out to replace a deck chair, though.”

“Already?” Chakuza exclaimed.

Tom leveled a steady gaze on the man, who looked away. “I'm wondering if lower quality materials were used,” he said. “That chair shouldn't have broken underneath us during its first voyage.”

Chakuza rubbed the back of his neck. “I doubt that vigorous sex between bloods was ever anticipated for one of the functions,” he replied, still looking off to the side.

“That's no excuse,” Tom returned. “We discussed specifications and tolerances and those are the standards to which I'd expect the contractors to adhere, and _I'm_ saying the chair shouldn't have broken so soon, so someone had better damn well get out there and fix it.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Chakuza asked, looking in the general direction of Tom's desk. He shifted from foot to foot; tugged his suit jacket down in his broad hands.

Tom snorted.

“I'll take that as a no,” Chakuza continued. “Any other new business to deal with?”

Tom considered for a moment before shaking his head. He and Bill had been swept up for the most part with making arrangements to move, playing a few gigs with their band that had been arranged at off-campus functions, and Tom had been slotting in his operations takeover while Bill attended his classes. In addition to that, there was the necessity of making sure they had as much sex as possible. Bill hadn't been to any of Bushido's former holdings since the man's death, and Tom wondered whether that was residual human guilt or simply lack of opportunity.

“And the old business?” Tom inquired, setting his mobile onto the desk. It was superfluous, as the desk display would have everything he needed, and more system resources besides. He hadn't turned it on yet, though, and depending on what Chakuza had for him, he might not need to.

Chakuza was silent for a moment, regarding the tips of his shoes. “Can I speak up about something, boss?”

“What's on your mind?” Tom leaned forward, lacing his hands together. He was genuinely curious. Chakuza was his main barometer for the staff that Tom had 'inherited' thanks to Bill's action. For one, the second-in-command and head of the security arm of operations was not afraid of Tom – at least, no more than a smart individual with his percentage of Nephilim heritage should be. To Tom's enhanced senses, most people in the business who knew who he was, and knew how he'd taken over, were terrified of him. They stank of fear. It was difficult for Tom to sort out any other physical cues when that one overrode any other.

For another matter, Chakuza had worked closely with Bushido and he'd been a trusted associate. He had a better sense of the inner workings of the business than any other on Bushido's territory. 

That made Tom keep the man close by his side, as well. He could tap him for useful information and keep a close eye on him at the same time. He didn't trust Chakuza – Tom didn't trust anyone but Bill – but he needed him.

“Morale is low,” Chakuza said, blunt. It was another quality Tom admired in him.

“Ah,” Tom said, and where his father might have waved a hand and said it didn't matter, Tom was inclined to pay this one heed. He knew that people were more likely to do a better job when they weren't desperately unhappy. “What can we do about it?”

“There's rumors circulating,” Chakuza said. “One of them is that you'll kill the next person who steps out of line.”

Tom bared his teeth at Chakuza in something resembling a grin. “Well, that depends on how badly someone fucks up,” he replied.

Chakuza widened his eyes at Tom.

“I'm not into casual killing, Chakuza,” Tom told him. “Tell your subordinates and make sure the word spreads. Unless someone makes a direct attempt on me, or Bill, I'm more apt to go through that very human process of having someone dismissed or shifted to some other type of work.”

“All right,” Chakuza said, his brows lowering. He wasn't frowning, but his expression was thoughtful.

“I'm sure that's way more reasonable than you were expecting,” Tom observed. “Look, we're in the human world now. I'm going to try to stay within those constraints, for the most part. Unless someone gives me a reason to kill them, I don't see why I should go to the effort.”

Chakuza shrugged. “That's understandable.”

“I said it before, and I meant it,” Tom continued. “With the exception of who's at the top, I expect very little to change. Anything else?”

“Bonuses,” Chakuza suggested with an air of diffidence.

Tom laughed. “To buy everyone's loyalty?” He sat up straighter.

“As a one-time gesture of good faith,” Chakuza corrected.

“Do it,” Tom said, placing both hands flat on the desk, one hovering near the display. “Then replace the fixed-rate payroll Bushido has going now with a stipend to cover minimum cost of living, and percentage salary based on performance.”

Chakuza blinked a moment. At last, he managed, “Boss, that's brilliant.”

Tom sniffed, choosing not to question why Bushido had never done it before. Performance-based pay would save money and weed out the slackers. Tom had checked to make sure it was legal. “Have we dealt with that, do you think?”

“That'll cover it,” Chakuza acknowledged.

“Let me know if anything else surfaces,” Tom said. “Was that all the rumors?”

“Eh, there's others,” Chakuza said, waving a dismissive hand. “You're screwing your own brother, you drink the blood of anyone who dares defy you, you're a witch, you use the skulls of your enemies for dark magic rituals, if anyone so much as speaks your name you'll appear as though summoned...”

A faint smile crossed Tom's face. “Well, that first one is true,” he murmured. “Nothing troubling?”

“Everyone is still off balance over how you basically came out of nowhere and took over,” Chakuza said. “Some are saying that was your plan from the first time you started playing the Sweetbox.”

Tom snorted. “That was a coincidence. If Bushido had never...” He trailed off, seeing Chakuza's expression darken. Tom wasn't much for tact, but knew when to avoid pushing. Chakuza was powerful, even though he clearly recognized Tom as the superior Nephilim-blood. Tom would hate to push him to the point where he felt he _had_ to fight, and make Tom annihilate him.

“Now,” Tom said. “Which business will we be visiting today?”


	4. Talk

The last time that a class had been canceled on Bill, blood and mayhem had ensued. Today after finding his last class canceled - the teacher claimed family emergency - Bill texted his twin at once to notify him that he was settling in at the coffee shop for an afternoon of homework, unless Tom could provide him with something more diverting.

Tom texted him back right away. _Wish I could be in you but I'm in a meeting instead. Pick you up usual time._

Bill sighed, shouldered his bag, and set off across campus. He'd rather Tom could be in him, too, but at least he'd get some homework done before his twin picked him up. There were exams to ace, a scholarship on the line, and they _still_ had to make sure to get in quality twin-loving time at least twice before bedtime. He tried to remember if they'd scheduled band practice with Gustav and Georg, then recalled that they had a gig that evening on campus.

Okay, so perhaps Bill was somewhat overbooked.

There was nothing in his life that he could rule out, though. Bill pondered his dilemma as he left the green landscaped haven of campus and approached the curb.

A toned, dark-haired woman in a charcoal suit and white blouse stepped into his path. She had the kind of tanned skin rarely seen inside the Wall, considering that the city's protective techno-magical barrier filtered out sunlight's ultraviolet rays. The woman had confident brown eyes, long, glossy straight hair pulled back into a functional tail, and she was looking right at him. Her high cheekbones and full mouth rendered a somewhat broad, almost otherwise plain face into something more exotic, sensual.

"Mr. Kaulitz, I'm Kellan Raye," the woman told him, extending a hand.

"I'm not interested," Bill responded, prepared to brush by her. He'd been scouted before; many times, in fact. When he smelled the gun, though, he stopped and gave her a second look.

“I'm from Orion Corporation,” Kellan moved on with smooth composure, her dark eyes steady on Bill's. “My employer would like a word.”

Bill sized her up. This Kellan appeared entirely nonthreatening to him, but appearances could be deceiving. He wouldn't have thought Bushido was desperate enough to have him kidnapped, after all. Technically, Orion did have the right to call Bill in for periodic evaluations as to how he, a half-Nephilim, was acclimatizing to human culture or whether he was judged a risk to the general populace. Those kinds of evaluations were typically set up in advance through channels with which Bill was familiar.

“Is Edie gone?” Bill asked Kellan, referring to the psychic who he had visited, growing up.

“This isn't a sanity evaluation,” Kellan replied, not batting a single brown eyelash. “I'm from a different division. I've come to invite you for a discussion, and that's all.”

Bill made a skeptical noise.

The tan was one of the things that had first impressed Bill regarding Tom's prowess. Unless they were born that color naturally, a person had to live or work regularly outside of the Walls in order to acquire one. Bill sized Kellan up. She appeared human; but then, so many did. Even her eyes were a solid black-pupiled brown. There was nothing about her to suggest Nephilim heritage, and yet Bill suspected her of it on an instinctual level. He wondered if he could take her on if it came down to a fight.

On that point, Bill had to conclude that his instincts were lacking. Tom had a keen understanding of the fights he could win and the fights that weren't worth it. Bill hadn't developed his skills to that point.

Kellan was an unknown factor, and Bill was finding he had to take her request at face value.

“Let me see your credentials,” Bill said at last, reluctant to give in to this reasonable-seeming request. If Orion wanted to speak to him for any reason, he was sure Tom would want to know it.

“Of course.” Kellan flashed a calm white smile in his direction, retrieving a wallet-shaped object from within her suit jacket. She flipped it open and showed a badge with the Orion logo, her name, and a rank with which Bill wasn't familiar.

“You don't mind if I take a moment to verify,” Bill said, raising a brow as he pulled his mobile free of his clutch.

“By all means,” Kellan said, with a magnanimous gesture.

Bill had a contact point with Orion that he was to use for all matters great and small. He had even used it once or twice, when he had experienced trouble explaining some incident to teachers or there had been too many witnesses of an otherwise inexplicable feat of strength. When he'd figured out how to wipe his trace, though, for any attacker with a psychic presence, he'd decided it wasn't worth the bother. Finding out that he had escalated to killing – even in self-defense – might be somehow turned against him even by the kindest evaluator. Bill _liked_ New York, and so he'd kept quiet.

His contact verified Kellan's employment status at Orion and gave a soft, “Oh, Bill...what trouble have you gotten into now?”

“That's a flattering assumption,” Bill replied, and ended the call. He shrugged, stowed his phone away, and met Kellan's eyes again. “I guess I'm going with you.”

"Good thing," Kellan said, leaving Bill to wonder what the alternatives might have been.

"What do you do for Orion?" Bill prompted, as the woman led him to a sleek car with blackout windows that was purring at the curb. She opened the rear passenger door for him, allowing a glimpse of a dark-skinned man behind the wheel.

Kellan arched her brows and gave Bill a bland smile. "Typically, I hunt things down and kill them." She shut the door on him and climbed into the shotgun seat.

Bill's mouth dropped open. For the first time in a great while, he'd been rendered speechless. Was he supposed to feel threatened? Disturbed? Pissed off?

"Very nice, Kellan," the black man spoke up, acerbic, as Kellan's door banged shut. He crooked a glance over his shoulder. "I'm Adrian Sinclair, field ops."

"Tell me, Sinclair, does Orion normally send field operatives to retrieve someone for a friendly discussion?" Bill shot back, controlled rage in his tone. He'd settled for pissed off, then.

"Dunno," Sinclair returned. He had a British accent, which intrigued Bill. Not many people traveled intercontinental anymore. Too great a chance of Kraken or Roc consumption. "But we've got a high success rate, so someone figured they'd send us, yeah? Anyhow I figure it's better than facing down that Shemyahza fellow."

Bill went cold. He knew the blood had to be draining from his face. "Quite," he managed. He'd never come up against a full-blood Nephilim before, nor did he want to. "So what do they want from me?" He figured it didn't hurt to ask the friendlier of the duo.

"No idea," Sinclair said cheerfully.

Bill scowled, detecting the lie in subtle shifts of breathing and pulse patterns, a slight chemical shift in his scent. He took the point, though, and didn't ask again. He wanted to know in order to prepare himself, but he'd find out in due time.

His sense of unease deepened as the car took them not to the aboveground facility that Bill regularly visited, but a discreetly camouflaged entrance to an underground structure.

"Where are we?" Bill demanded, as the door for what was ostensibly a shipping and distribution operation slid open and they drove down, and down, into a winding, darkened tunnel. Bill began to count, tapping his foot against the floor of the car.

"Classified," Kellan answered, at the same time Sinclair replied, "Cygnus Building."

Kellan snorted.

"What? Carson never said not to say," Sinclair shot back, defensive.

Bill combed through his recollection for any knowledge of a Carson in Orion hierarchy, but came up dry. He didn't even know if Cygnus had any particular significance. He'd never heard of it before.

At last, they pulled from the dark downward spiral into a large underground car lot. They had to be at least four stories below street level by Bill's estimate, though it was only approximate. He'd started counting belatedly and hadn't established a proper frame of reference.

With Sinclair and Kellan to either side of him, Bill was escorted from the car to a building with polished steely corridors, lit to sunlight-levels with inset display walls along one side that mimicked a view of a window that opened to the outside. As the door closed behind them, Bill throttled down a rising sense of claustrophobia. He was being shut in someplace where he had no sure means of getting out.

He pulled his mobile from his clutch, checking the display discreetly and furrowing his brow. Even underground, he should still be able to get some kind of reception.

"That's no good in a secure building unless you're cleared for external communications," Kellan murmured beside him.

"Ah," Bill said. He stowed his mobile again and contemplated vengeful thoughts, knowing Tom would catch _something_ of his distress.

They took him to a room where he was 'processed,' whatever that meant – he went through a device rather like a door frame, only with no door, and no wall around it. A bored-appearing woman with tanned skin, blond hair caught up in multiple braids, and bare, muscular arms that had more definition than any that Bill had ever seen was standing good at the far wall, arms folded. She waved Bill through the device and pointed to the door opposite the one Bill had entered, all without speaking. Her eyes were covered with mirror sunglasses.

As Bill emerged into the hallway where Kellan and Sinclair were waiting for him, he decided it was best not to ask.

"Are we going to get to the point of my visit any time soon?" Bill demanded, exasperated. There was a distant sense of unease rising at the margin of his consciousness. Tom wasn't overtly concerned yet, but he was aware there was a disruption to the schedule they had discussed, and that Bill wasn't comfortable with it, quite.

"Yes, the conference room is a few doors down, mate," Sinclair said, gesturing up the hallway.

"Don't call me that," Bill growled, turning quickly to give the man a menacing curl of his lip.

Kellan went for a gun.

Sinclair spread both hands, looking alert. "Just a nickname, Bill."

"You are not my mate," Bill stated, making it perfectly clear.

"That's right," Sinclair said, both hands still outspread. "Now we're gonna show you to that conference room, and be on our way."

The door was literally three down to the right. Kellan toggled it, and gestured. Bill squinted at her suspiciously.

"This is as far as we go," she told him, with a quirk of her generous mouth.

Bill nodded, not bothering with thanks. They had essentially kidnapped him, after all. Hijacked him from his perfectly normal, bookish afternoon, putting him behind on homework and he _still_ couldn't remember what time the sound check was, whether this would put them so far behind he'd have to cancel their gig, or turn Tom down for sex.

Right, as though that was happening.

The conference room within was dim, but Bill's eyes adjusted quickly, thanks to his Nephilim blood. Seated beside a featureless, standard sort of conference table were a blond woman and a slouching man at the head of the table. The blond wore a crisp suit, deep burgundy with a pinstriped white blouse, and her hair was twisted up in a flawless chignon. The man was slumped down in his chair and had long, dark hair that loosely framed his face. He was wearing a logo tee-shirt and checkered over shirt, jeans, and was spinning his chair from side to side until he spotted Bill across the room.

Bill held himself tense, wary.

"Bill Trumper," the man proclaimed, straightening in his chair and clearing his throat. He had a kindly face, older, somewhat lined but still boyish.

"It's Bill Kaulitz, sir," the woman corrected, simultaneous with Bill's curt, "Bill Kaulitz."

"Ah, yes, yes," the man replied, clasping his hands together. "Kaulitz. I'm Division Head Loire."

"Alicia Carson, tactical specialist in charge of field operations," the blond supplied.

Bill folded his arms, obdurate. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" he said, sulky.

"Have a seat, please, Bill," Loire said, gesturing to the open seats at the conference table.

"Can I get an idea of what this is about?" Bill countered. "That might let me know if I want to sit, or not."

Carson sat up straighter, inhaling, but Loire chuckled.

"As you like," Loire said, pressing something on the darkened display before him. It lit up, and he pressed another button.

A picture of a dead man hovered above the table on full holographic projection.

Bill's jaw began to tighten. He kept the gesture infinitesimal, blinking and shifting, dropping his mouth to simulate shock. "Gods above," he said, palming the nearest chair to spin it toward him. He sank into it, approximating a shocked thud.

Carson regarded him with cool appraisal, but Loire leaned forward, propping his chin on interlaced fingers.

"Do you recognize this man, Bill?"

Bill tilted his head to one side, studying the holo projection as though scanning the corpse's features for a trace of recognizable human. He began to shake his head, already knowing the answer. "No, I don't think so."

 _Yes,_ he already knew. _I killed him._ An icy dart pricked the back of his neck like a warning. Did Orion know, or merely have a very good idea?

Another picture keyed up on the projection display hovering above the table. It stacked beside the first. It was joined by a third, a fourth. Bill leaned back from the table, making another soft noise of shock. They couldn't possibly have any proof, and yet here he was.

“You can drop the act,” Carson told him, blunt. “We know that remorse or compassion for human suffering aren't part of your psychological profile.”

Bill raised a brow. “But it is polite,” he replied, uncrossing his arms.

The pictures of the dead men swam above the table like wraiths brought to haunt him. Loire spoke up again.

“Are you sure you don't recognize any of these men?” Loire pressed.

“No, I don't. What's this supposed to be?” Bill asked, buffing his nails against his shirt. Technically it was true – he didn't know any of the men, so recognizing for who they were was impossible. Also, with most of them he'd crushed their jaws, so reconstructing human features was somewhat difficult.

He frowned up at the holographic images again. Some of them had been Bushido's men, sent to capture rather than kill him. He supposed he should feel bad for their untimely demise, but couldn't bring himself to regret acting out of self-defense. The others had been sent against him for unknown purposes, and Bill could see no difference between the two categories. He had done what he needed to in order to keep himself safe, free, and alive.

“You tell me,” Carson rejoined, her attractive features cool and impassive.

Bill raised his brows, an amused smile taking hold. He could play the game. “So, now I'm supposed to know?” He had years of practice faking innocence, enough to know his performance was flawless.

Loire tilted his head, drawing Bill's attention with the slide of dark hair over one of the man's broad shoulders. He was attractive, though older, and not to Bill's taste. He had piercing dark blue eyes that were fixed on Bill right now with an appealing sort of earnestness. “I think you do know,” Loire told Bill. “You see, we're pretty sure that you killed these men, all of them.”

Bill made a disparaging noise in his throat. He regarded Loire with unflinching eyes. “That's quite an allegation,” he commented, placing his hands flat on the table. He'd read somewhere that it was a human gesture to cultivate trust, implying that he had nothing to hide. Also, that he bore no weapons. As best he could tell, both Loire and Carson were completely human. Bill was rarely wrong about that.

Carson leaned forward, tabbing something on the display panel that made all four holographic pictures collapse to a single pinpoint of light. The spark hung in the air a moment before dissipating. “It's only an allegation if it's untrue,” the tactician observed, a quiet challenge in her voice.

“That's a fair point. But if it were true, you can't prove it,” Bill observed, calm. That icy caution that had stroked his nerves before had settled into his core, bringing with it a detachment.

“No, we can't,” Loire admitted. He pushed away from the conference table with a heavy sigh. “That's why you're here, and not with, say, the Paranormal Homicides Division of the city. And I believe you know that, Bill.”

Bill shrugged. “So, what do you want from this meeting? You can't hold me here, you can't charge me with anything so I don't need to call my lawyer, and if I'm not back with Tom within the hour, he's going to come looking for me.” He looked from Loire to Carson, his eyes glinting. If they knew him so well, they must have done some kind of covert surveillance. They'd know why Bill had changed his name. They must know about Tom. “I don't think you want Tom to come looking for me.”

Loire spread his hands. Another gesture of trust, Bill noted. They were each trying to get one another to believe in them, but for what purpose? Bill simply wanted to be left alone.

“You've got a lot of power, Bill, you and your brother,” Loire replied. “We could use your help. There's been some movement outside the Wall to take over the New York territory lately.”

Bill huffed. “You've gone to all this effort to _recruit me?_ ” he said, incredulous. “I can think of about a dozen better approaches you could have made as opposed to trying to threaten me with kills I may or may not have had a hand in.”

“Very plausible-deniability of you,” Carson noted, dry.

Bill flicked the tactician an irritated glance. He wasn't going to fall into the trap and point out the fact that the kills had been self-defense. He knew enough about modern parapsychic forensics to be sure they would have that information. The best way to lie was to say as little as possible, and when he did speak, say as much truth as possible.

“There aren't that many unaffiliated individuals of Nephilim blood within the Wall,” Loire continued. “With someone making moves on that undefended turf outside, we can use every hand that's possessed of the considerable power you and your brother have.”

Bill parted his lips, baring his teeth in a shark-like grin. “Right,” he agreed, “and you're worried that Tom might make a move in that direction himself, I'll bet. A Nephilim like him, raised in the wilds, born to head up a House – now kicking around here in the city at loose ends. So you and your pet tactician are worried all that power will turn to destructive ends, maybe, and want to put us to work.”

Loire's handsome, easygoing expression closed down to unreadable lines.

“Forget it,” Bill stated, rising from his seat and gripping his clutch with sharp-nailed hands. He glared at Carson before transferring his gaze to Division Head Loire. “The only thing I'm interested in is music, fucking, Tom, and taking immaculate care of myself – not necessarily in that order. Those priorities run contrary to signing up for whatever anti-Nephilim operations that you have in mind.”

He turned his back on them, making his way to the door.

“I'm sorry that's your answer,” Loire spoke up, sounding sincere.

Bill ignored him, standing before the door. He'd expected it to be triggered, like most doors, by proximity but it hadn't snapped aside for him. He banged a palm on the surface and it gave back a resounding clang, bending under the weight of his touch at once. “Open the fucking door and let me out of here!”

Behind him, Carson sighed.

“There's a switch to your right,” Loire told him helpfully.

Bill toggled it, casting one last withering glance over his shoulder. He was scornful of them for trying to recruit him; moreover, trying in essence to blackmail him with kills that had been self-defense. Both Loire and Carson were still watching him, but transferred their gazes swiftly to the conference table.

The mobile in Bill's clutch was useless, but he could sense Tom's presence near. Not agitated yet, but reactive to Bill's mood. His twin was on edge, and so close that he was literally on top of where Bill was standing, deep underground.

Sinclair and Kellan Raye were ranged against the corridor wall as Bill emerged from the conference room.

Kellan's mouth twisted as their eyes met. “We'll take you back,” she said, giving him a jerky nod.

“Don't bother,” Bill replied. He glanced upward, as though able to see Tom through layers of plasteel and earth. “Take me to the surface. I've got my own ride arranged.”

There had been one picture missing from those arrayed on the holo projector, Bill mused as he followed Sinclair and Kellan in silence. Bushido's dead face hadn't stared at him with mute reproach. Loire and his tactician had neglected to cast that one up to him, and Bill had to wonder if they were waiting to pin it on Tom, or whether there was some other motive at work.


	5. Release

As Tom had climbed into his sleek silver car, his instinct led him to turn the wheel from his normal route home. He'd finished up a boring meeting with Chakuza and the middle management at one of the assembly plants that produced parts for a munitions company, and doubled revenue by providing lesser-grade copies to the black market. Boredom of that scale required Bill to revive him to something resembling himself again. Instead of heading for home or campus, though, Tom found himself driving in the opposite direction, following an inner prompting that led him to a nondescript, blocky gray building in a half-abandoned shopping and administrative office area.

Tom parked, got out of the car and leaned against it, folded his arms, and waited.

He had homed in on the flame at the edge of his consciousness that bespoke 'Bill' to him with no particular effort. Now that he'd found Bill, been with him in every sense of the word, he could never lose his twin again.

It wasn't long before Bill emerged from the front doors of the nondescript gray building. The time that passed was only long enough for Tom to merely contemplate kicking down doors and seeing how far he got. He was sure if he battered down enough walls he'd get to Bill eventually. It was more by way of a mental exercise, mapping out a battle plan that would take him to Bill, because he didn't sense his twin in any distress.

Two figures hovered at the doors from which Bill emerged, but drew back too quickly as the doors snapped shut. Tom wasn't able to get a good look.

"This is not where I left you," Tom observed as Bill crossed the space between them with quick strides. School bag and clutch were tossed through an open window into Tom's car as Bill plastered himself against Tom's front, winding arms about his waist. Tom embraced his twin, rubbing a soothing hand at Bill's tattooed nape.

"Tell me about it," Bill half groaned, nuzzling against. Tom's neck and breathing in. "Let's just go home."

"What is this place?" Tom asked, staring past Bill's dark head at the gray building's facade. The two people he'd seen were surely professionals, and had not been wearing uniforms. That implied Orion, to Tom.

"Tell you later," Bill said, moving his hands down to grab Tom's ass through his boxers. "Want sex now."

Tom growled under his breath. Any display of possessiveness on Bill's part made Tom want to turn his twin over the nearest surface and have him _now_. "Not here," he said, flexing his hands on Bill anyhow.

Bill pulled back to give him a puzzled glance. "Of course not here," he said, and his expression turned knowing. "I like that you want to, though."

Tom was _really_ going to have to make sure that his new car got its reinforcements. "If there wasn't a law against public indecency, I'd spread you over the hood," he vowed.

"Mm, Tomi, I like that," Bill purred in his ear, before licking a stripe up his neck.

"Bill," Tom groaned, putting his twin away from him with both hands. "Why do I have the sense you're trying to distract me with sex?"

"Tom," Bill huffed, his brown eyes needy and imploring. "The less time we spend talking about it, the sooner you can be in me."

Tom glared at him for a heartbeat before turning to get the passenger door for Bill. He wasn't a fool, he didn't like for Bill to hide things, but on the other hand he knew Bill wasn't lying about needing sex, and Tom's body was responding to that desire. Best to get that taken care of, first, before they got into something else.

"We're playing a gig on your campus tonight," he reminded Bill.

Bill gave him a smoldering look in turn. "More incentive to get on with it, then." He slid into the passenger seat.

Tom hurried around the side and got behind the wheel. "Road head?" he inquired hopefully.

Bill pulled a scandalized face. "If you're _capable_ of driving while I am blowing you, then I'm not doing it right."

Once Tom had pulled out into traffic, he reached over to set a proprietary hand on Bill's knee. "Tell me what happened," he ordered.

Bill sighed and scrubbed at his face. "It's been a long day," he said, drawing it out.

Tom flashed him an ironic glance. "You didn't even have to drop in on any board meetings," he said.

"Ooh, I wish I could have seen that," Bill said with enthusiasm. "A roomful of middle-aged executives shitting their pants over a teenaged thug without quite knowing why...I'll bet that went well."

"It could have gone worse," Tom allowed. He devoted more attention to driving as he wove in and out of traffic, deftly cutting around other cars and going not quite twice the speed limit. "And you? Start with the easiest and work up."

"Mmm..." Bill relaxed into his chair. "We're having dinner with Mom and Gordon tomorrow night."

"All right," Tom said, agreeable. He liked the woman who'd given birth to him, as it happened, which made everything easier for him and Bill. The man she'd married was a good one, as well. "Anything else?" He floored it as they reached a stretch of straight road, glancing to one side.

Bill was looking right at him, licking his lips. He tongued his upper lip, the bead of his tongue stud flashing.

Tom began to harden, cursing and restoring his attention through the front windshield as he gripped at the wheel hard enough to make it creak a warning. "You're going to get it," he said, confident.

“I want it,” Bill replied, and licked his lips again. He eased down into a more reclining position in his chair and pressed a hand against the front of his jeans.

Tom could see Bill's hand cupping between his legs from the corner of his eye, and swore again. Any thought for sharing the details of his day, for Orion's sudden interest in him or some of the incredibly stupid things that middle plant management had said, evaporated from Tom's mind as he held onto the wheel and his self control by a thin margin. Bill was rubbing himself and making soft, pleased sounds as he did so.

“You're going to get it so hard,” Tom said, hoarse. He licked his lips and tried not to think about how he wanted to be inside Bill _right now_ , holding his hips tight as he screwed into him fast enough to make them both scream. “As soon as I pull this car into the garage.”

Bill gave him a slow blink. “But the seats,” he objected. “And I might end up with a gear shift up my ass instead of--”

Tom scoffed. “I _know_ where to put it, when it comes to you,” he chided. “And I was thinking more the tool bench in the garage.”

“For the first time.” Bill's smile was hazy lust burgeoning like the gathering billow of storm clouds. “Then I'll want it again in the house proper.”

“We have a show later,” Tom reminded his twin.

Bill's lust-heavy expression shifted into calculation. He stroked his hand over the top edge of his pants, baring a narrow slice of tummy, his thumb teasing over and back along the hairless skin.

“Don't _do_ that,” Tom warned, fixing his eyes forward. “And no, we don't have time to do it twice before the show. Not if you're going to spend your usual time getting ready.”

“I'm the front man,” Bill said, ignoring him and playing with his zipper, dragging it up and down and tormenting Tom with the sound of it going back and forth. “I need to look my best, always. I don't think they'd appreciate me playing naked, Tom.”

“I think they'd appreciate it too much, and it's not going to happen. Everyone wants a piece of you.” Tom cast about for something to distract him from his mounting arousal. “What about that...I drove you in early this morning, what happened with that?”

“Ms. Claiborn doesn't want a piece of me,” Bill said. There was a pause. “Well. Not literally.”

“What did she want?” Tom prompted. He threw the car into a turn as they reached the last stretch that separated them from the privacy of their new home.

Bill dragged his zipper down again, permeating the air with the unique scent of his arousal, making Tom's nostrils flare. “Sex now,” he said, dipping a hand inside his pants and making Tom growl, because _he_ wanted to be touching it. “Talk later.”

It had only been half a day since they'd had each other, but it was as though some switch had been flipped inside Tom. He needed Bill, the overwhelming compulsion of it driving every other thought from his brain. It wasn't like this always, but often enough. One or the other of them would do something, say something that would shift them into this frenzy. Tom needed more than the sight and sound of his twin; he needed to touch him, run his hands over him, stroke every part of Bill and join their bodies for good measure, until they were spent. Later there would be more touching, wrapped up together in the sheets of their bed where they would pet and caress and talk.

As best Tom knew, it was the drive of the newly-mated, though he wondered if theirs wasn't more intense because they were twins, and so long separated.

“Tomi,” Bill said, and his breath hitched.

Tom couldn't let himself look. He pressed the control on the car console that would open the garage, overly careful so as not to crush it. Crashing his new car because he'd turned to glance at Bill would be all kinds of bad – for one, it wouldn't stop him from climbing on Bill, whether they were in the wreckage of a car spread all over the street, or not. For another, there would be property damage claims to deal with, even potentially a police incident report...

Holding his breath, Tom guided the car into the garage and remembered to toggle the control again, to close the door.

As he pulled to a stop and applied the hand brake, Bill said again, “Tomi.”

Now Tom looked. Bill had pulled his pants together and he flashed Tom a coy smile.

“Come and get it,” Bill told him, with a challenging lift of his chin. In the blink of an eye, he was out of the car and slamming through the garage door hard enough to leave it askew on its hinges.

Tom growled, tearing out of the car with barely a wince for the squeal of distressed metal. His entire consciousness was centered on giving chase for the narrow black-clad ass that had fled the scene. “Bill!” Tom yelled, shucking off his caps and shirt in the entryway as he sprinted through. He wanted to be prepared when he found him.

A maddening chuckle floated back to him, and Tom darted up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Sometimes Bill liked to be difficult; to make Tom chase him, to drag it out and make it worth their while. He had to know Tom would give it to him twice as hard for all that.

“You shouldn't tease, Bill,” Tom called out, scrambling around the corner at the top of the stairs and approaching with more caution. He prowled forward, alert for any hint of resistance or upcoming obstacles. “I might snap and take you so hard, you wouldn't be able to walk tonight.”

“You wouldn't,” came the reply.

Tom grinned fiercely, getting a fix on Bill's position from that defiant retort. “Wouldn't I,” he murmured, tonguing at his lip. “Also, you'd better be naked unless you want to lose some clothes that you intended to keep.”

A patter of shower spray started up in response.

Tom cocked his head, a quick frown pulling at his features as he insinuated himself into the bedroom on quiet feet. There was a trail of discarded clothing leading for the bathroom, making Tom's features lighten in a quick grin. He undid his belt and crept for the bathroom on silent feet, his dark eyes darting around the perimeter of the room to make sure Bill hadn't stowed himself somewhere and the shower had been turned on to provide a diversion.

He stopped on the threshold of the bathroom, riveted by the sight of Bill's naked back as water poured over it.

“I'm going to rock you right into the wall,” Tom said, reverent. He kicked his shoes off as Bill shot a smoldering look over one bare shoulder, dark eyes going down Tom's nude torso before rising to look him in the eye.

“You'd better not,” Bill said, passing a hand over his own side, resting it on his hip and cocking it out. It brought attention to the shadowed crease of his ass as a rivulet of water snaked down over it, redirected by Bill's movements.

Tom yanked aside the glass door that enclosed the shower and climbed in heedless of the denim jeans, which were instantly soaked by the spray as he joined Bill. He wound his arms around Bill's slender body and pressed against him from behind, attacking Bill's neck with sucking kisses before mapping his way up the jaw and meeting the responsive sally of an agile tongue.

“Ahh,” Bill sighed when their mouths parted. “I love you. I've been thinking about this all day. Put it in me, Tomi.”

Tom nodded, ignoring the spray that soaked his dreadlocks as he continued to kiss Bill's neck, dabbling his tongue against a sweet spot before sinking his teeth in.

Bill moaned, pushing back against him in regular, inviting pulses to encourage him onto the main event.

Tom fanned his fingers out over Bill's hips before bringing them down and around, cupping and massaging Bill's tiny ass, pressing up and thrusting him against the tiled wall as he rocked against his body. He spared a hand to wrench his jeans open, uncaring over the fact that he'd ripped the fly out, and dipped in a low-hanging pocket for an ever-present tube of lubricant.

He pushed his boxers down far enough for his cock to spring up out of them, hard and ready to be pushed into Bill.

Drizzling enough lube out to cover his cock and not much more, Tom palmed himself roughly, aligning the tip against Bill's heated entrance and closing his eyes, tongue flicking against his lower lip as he struggled to maintain control for a moment. Bill was tense with anticipation beside him, and gave a little moan that bounced off the shower tiles, echoing around them.

“Tomi,” Bill said, the nickname entreating. He arched his back, brushing against the head of Tom's cock.

With a nod, Tom reached down to spread Bill open, rubbing his slicked tip firmly in the crease. Bill gave him another little moan, moving in such a way to cause the head of Tom's cock to bump against his hole. Tom groaned and lined himself up properly, forcing the tip past Bill's outer resistance and letting go, taking Bill's hips in both hands as he pressed forward and filled the tight channel in one spearing thrust.

“Tom!” Bill transformed the name into a wail, crowding forward as Tom rode into him without stopping. He braced against the shower wall, stopped by the physical confines of their enclosed space.

Without a verbal response, Tom held onto his twin's hips and withdrew, giving him shallow pulses to start. Bill was tight, gripping him with molten, incredibly constrictive heat. It made Tom throw his head back and pause for a moment, buried deep in that sweet clench as he waited for Bill to let up on his dick just enough to be able to _move_. He tried to rock in slow movements to open Bill up for more.

Bill cooed something soft in response and shifted, something yielding to Tom's cock within him. As Tom surged forward he gasped, hands scrabbling over tile as though searching for a hold.

Tom pressed him forward, making them both stumble and slip under the water's spray as he thrust, hilting his cock as far as it would go. He thrust, withdrew, and did it again, quickening as the sweet spot inside Bill called to him as loudly as Bill's rising mewls.

“Tom, _Tomi_ , Tom, TOM!” Bill cried out, as though incapable of any other word.

By way of response, Tom groaned. He moved faster, shoving his cock all the way in and withdrawing far enough to be able to cram it back in again. If he could stay joined like this with Bill, twenty-four seven...even that much might not be enough.

“Gonna fuck you right into the wall,” Tom grunted, plowing forward with more forceful strokes.

Bill cried out and shuddered, folding his arms against the tile as Tom rocked him forward. His head banged against the wall and a tile cracked with a rifle-sharp report. Bill's breathless laugh greeted that bit of damage. “You've already done that,” he reminded, voice husky though Tom hadn't made him scream that much. Not nearly enough. “And I...ohh...would like to retain a functional... _ahh!_ shower, Tomi...mmm, right there!”

Tom grasped at Bill's hips and realigned their pelvises, thrusting down into him with long, sure strokes. “There?” he inquired, deliberately falling short.

“Nnh!” Bill protested, wiggling as much as Tom's tight grip on him would allow.

Skin was slick beneath Tom's hands as he sought to tighten his grip, pounding into Bill faster. It wasn't enough. The draw of Bill's body exerted a pull on him, forcing him balls-deep each time he tried to withdraw, to give them a breather, to firm up their uneven footing in the shower. They were going to tumble any moment due to their precarious positions, and all Tom would be able to do was keep riding Bill's ass while they flailed around breaking the glass and tile around them.

“Tomi,” Bill uttered, his voice thready with need. Still he wouldn't ask outright for it, for Tom to slam into the spot where he was really wanting.

Tom's head bowed in a nod unseen by Bill and he lifted Bill's hips up as best he could, fucking down into him at a new angle and sensing from Bill's posture, his tension level, his unchanged breathing rate that he hadn't gotten it quite right. He lined Bill up closer, shifting them in a way infinitesimally more to his liking, and bore down, his stomach muscles clenching.

"Oh...oh!" Bill cried out, scrabbling for a hold on the smooth surface of the wall again. "Oohh..Tom!"

Tom didn't need to be told he'd hit it when Bill was clasping down on his cock with that perfect tightness. He sped up, giving it to Bill _hard_ from the same angle, his grin sharp and fierce when Bill's excited moans rebounded all around them, drowning out the sound of shower spray.

"Yes...ohhh yes, don't stop...ohhh yes, Tom, so good..." Bill went on, telling Tom at length and in lurid detail exactly how amazing his cock was inside, moving at that pace, that sheer slide of their bodies slapping together again and again.

"Gonna...nng..." Tom was losing his grip on Bill's water-slick angles.

"Don't you dare come yet," Bill informed him, his voice militant, the impression of sternness spoiled somewhat by the way his face was squashed full-press against the tiled wall.

Tom grinned down at his twin, giving Bill's wet flank an affectionate slap. "We're not done yet," he assured him. "Change of location." He pulled out, grasping one of Bill's rear cheeks, mesmerized by the almost hidden wink of his pink hole flexing closed from its stretched out state. He had done that.

Would do it again soon, very soon.

Bill moaned and thrust his ass back as Tom kneaded his ass, gripping his wet cock with the other. He was tempted to slip it in again, but he wanted better leverage even more.

"Come on, Billy," Tom insisted.

Lithe as an otter, Bill twisted around. His black hair was soaked, dripping into his face and plastered against his neck, but he didn't seem to care. His eyes flashed as he looked down Tom's front.

"Didn't even take your pants off," Bill muttered, sounding piqued.

"See how eager I was for you?" Tom offered.

"Where do you want it?" Bill moved past that. He reached out for Tom's cock and took it in hand, disengaging Tom's grasp on himself and working him over. His tongue flicked out over his lip and Tom couldn't decide what he wanted more; his twin's mouth or the deliciously tight grip of his beloved ass.

"Uhh," Tom vocalized, completely lost in his tormenting choice.

Bill grinned at him, running his tongue more deliberately over his lip, eyes smoldering. "Counter? Bathroom rug? Or we could be very pedestrian and use the bed..."

"I like that bed," Tom said, his voice hoarse. He reached down to push his jeans off. Wet, the fabric gave him trouble and he yanked, shearing the jeans off with a sibilant ripping noise. "I need you _now_ , though."

Bill's eyes glinted. He brushed past Tom, hitting the door with a fleetness that implied he'd run and force Tom to give chase, again.

"Oh, fuck no," Tom swore, stepping out of the remnants of his pants and bolting. He seized Bill by the arms, still growling.

Bill went down easy, giggling the entire time as they tumbled in a pile of limbs to the shaggy bathroom rug. He gasped when Tom pushed him down and mounted, knocking one of Bill's legs wide with his knee and feeding his cock inside with one smooth push.

"Ahh...ah!" Bill bucked back against him, shaking his head and causing wet droplets to fly out in every direction. His hands rucked up the rug as Tom thrust down into him in quick, repeated movements, his balls slapping Bill's rump as he joined their bodies again and again.

Bill moaned, flipping his hair out of his eyes as he lofted his head to look over his shoulder, desperate and clearly beyond words. He was squeezing down on Tom in fluttering, irregular pulses that let Tom know his mate was out of control, climax boiling up in every yearning cell of his body as they surged toward completion.

Tom cried out and folded Bill under him as though he were boneless. With one hand he reached for Bill's, twining their fingers together. He bent nearly double over Bill, his hips inscribing frantic circles as he fucked him, staying inside as deep and often as he could, and stretched over Bill's body to clamp his teeth along the side of Bill's beautiful neck.

Bill cried out, going taut beneath him. The sudden heady rush of his orgasm strobed through Tom, everything he could touch, hear, taste, smell, see telling him Bill was coming, unleashing the climax of their sex onto the rug beneath their joined bodies.

Tom stiffened, too, so deeply into Bill that his twin's orgasm brought him off. He licked and nipped at Bill's throat, sucking and dabbling his tongue at the already-reddened bite mark he'd created. Coming was a rush, tumbling into flight, spreading himself over every bit of Bill's sweaty skin and pumping into him with his last, leisurely strokes.

They collapsed onto the bathroom rug together. Bill squirmed in his arms until they were face to face, forcing Tom to disengage and making them both shiver at the loss of their most direct connection. Bill was flushed, laughing, happy.

“I love you,” Tom murmured, nudging against Bill's face and planting a kiss on him.

Bill broke into his brightest, most luxuriant smile. “Love you back,” he assured.

“Now,” Tom said, raising a brow and stroking down Bill's flank with one hand, securing a grip on him and hauling him closer until there was no space between them. “What's this deal of yours, ending up in a place far from campus with a couple of spooks?”

Bill stiffened and lowered his eyes, instantly pouty. “Let's relocate first, okay? There's broken tile digging into my side and I already need a shower again...”

“Cute,” Tom mumbled, not exactly amused by Bill's avoidance tactics, but he planted another kiss on his twin's lips. He got to his feet, brushing crushed tile off Bill's pale flank and admiring the impact craters that Bill's knees had left in the floor, even through the rug. Now in addition to having screwed him into a wall, he could brag that he had literally fucked Bill into the floor.

He grabbed a washcloth from the shower door, which was still ajar, and swiped it over Bill's buttocks, cleaning up the come with reluctance but knowing Bill would be likelier to cooperate if he were feeling fresh. He wiped himself down for good measure.

Bill was biting his lip and he caught at Tom's wrist, leading him to the bed after Tom threw the washcloth back into the shower, hitting the far rail and causing the washcloth to drape over it as neatly as though he'd hung it there.

“What is it?” Tom inquired, placing his other hand on Bill's lower back and following him closely.

They climbed into bed, facing one another. Bill was still biting his lip and Tom stroked his hand up Bill's side, not stopping until he cupped the side of Bill's face. A surge of tender possessiveness shot through him as he recalled the way someone had tried to take this from him. He'd kill whoever tried to take Bill from him.

“It's Orion,” Bill said, lining their bodies up all along their fronts. He ran his nails lightly up and down Tom's skin wherever he could reach. Sometimes when they were in bed together, all they did was touch and kiss for ages. “They took me to some briefing room, showed me pictures of my kills.”

Tom sucked in a harsh breath. “They can't prove anything,” he stated, sure of it.

“No,” Bill said, but his brow was pinched. “They want something from us, Tom. They want us to fight for them.”

Tom snorted. “Good luck with that,” he said, and pressed forward to kiss Bill's tempting mouth. “The only side we're on is our own.”

Bill nipped his lip, drawing back to give Tom one of his quick, mischievous grins. “Sure we don't have time for one more?”

Tom didn't even bother to glance at the clock. “Always for you.”


	6. Hot and Cold

"That went...not as well as it could have," Alicia Carson said, swiping her hand over the display panel before her and shutting down the Djinn operating system that controlled the table.

Division Head Loire rubbed his hands together, looking across the room at the door Bill Kaulitz had disappeared through. "He and his twin would be a tremendous asset to our operations," he said, "but more than that, I'm worried that they're headed in a dangerous direction. Assuming control over a criminal syndicate, and the kills..."

"They were all self defense," Alicia reminded her boss.

"So the forensics techs tell us," Loire said. He steepled his hands before him, brow wrinkling in thought. "It's not a long step from there to kills for gain, or if they perceive themselves to be threatened. Pre-emptive kills."

"I suppose," Alicia said. She didn't have a psychological profile on Bill to be able to tell whether that was likely or even plausible.

"They need a mentor," Loire decided, pushing away from the conference table. He stood, nodding his dark head as he folded his arms. "Yes, yes, a mentor." A nod accompanied each word.

Alicia sighed, knowing on whose shoulders that duty would be placed.

"You need to find them someone – a Nephilim blood, with mentor temperament – yes, that needs to happen, Alicia," Loire said, uncrossing his arms and beginning to stride for the door. "Make it happen, all right?"

Alicia placed a hand to her forehead, dismayed by the unreasonable nature of the request but already running through a mental catalog of likely candidates. Nephilim, by nature, were not 'mentor' types. Shemyahza was out on assignment and likely to refuse another – and his full blood Nephilim status might be perceived as a threat by the twins. Cal was equally powerful, being a half-blood on the Chiba scale, but he possessed no delicacy or diplomacy in his nature. 

"All right," Alicia began, lifting her head, but Loire had made good his escape. She skewed her mouth to one side and contemplated making a rude gesture to her departing boss's back as the doors whooshed closed, but knew it was a sign of how confident Loire was that she could make all of the decisions required to approach the situation and succeed.

She pulled her mobile out of her slim-fit jacket and retrieved a particular number. She needed more data, and the best option at this point would be to send in someone low risk, those with instincts geared toward retreat rather than digging in and fighting. The priority was information, not some kind of macho death match.

The Wynnes would be the best option for the initial encounter – they were wily, Orion contractors, and Kyle at least had the sense to make sure to fall back if the Kaulitz twins got their backs up. The Wynne brothers had Nephilim blood, they were strong, but had less than most other contractors. Not enough to be a threat to the Kaulitzes, for certain.

The only question now was how soon they could make themselves available. At the rate things were going, that very evening might not be soon enough.

She wanted to protest that she was a tactician; that this, finding mentor material for a pair of half-grown, raw-powered Nephilim was not her job, but in a sense it was. Loire was looking forward, as usual. New York City was unclaimed Nephilim territory, and Orion had scrutinized all comers that possessed Nephilim blood with a careful eye toward those who might be inclined toward a takeover. Orion's contractors and the Wall and City Defense Corps hadn't had a focused Nephilim opponent in years, and Alicia more than anyone was aware that the wastelands outside the city Wall were ripe for a takeover.

Both she and her boss were theorizing that it could be Tom making the effort to claim the territory once he had built up a sufficient power base within the city.

Alicia dialed, and the mobile rang for a long moment before a breathless, husky voice said into her ear, "Yeah?"

Nostrils flaring, Alicia double-checked the display. "Put your brother on," she ordered.

A sigh. "I made a single exhalation; how could you possibly know it's me?" Kory Wynne questioned.

"Don't waste my time," Alicia said crisply, examining her unpainted oval nails.

Kory's tone was more alert when he spoke again. "Got a job for us?"

"Yes, and it's not the end of the world, this time," Alicia told him. "Simple recon job. Now put your brother on."

Kory huffed a warm chuckle into her ear. "Look, just because you called his phone doesn't mean you can't deal with me, you know?"

"True," Alicia said, "but he's more reliable. I want to make sure he's got all of the nuances."

"Right," Kory said, and there was a distant grunt on his end as though he'd elbowed someone. "I'm not exactly a nuance kind of guy."

Alicia spoke with Kyle for several moments, giving him the details and info that he would need. At last, the older man blew out a sigh.

"Not an end of the world kind of situation, but a potential threat to the city," Kyle summarized.

"Potentially," Alicia said, giving his response an unseen nod.

Kyle's voice was wry and she could imagine him pulling his mouth to one side in that dry twist as he continued, "Well, then, we can't exactly say no, can we?"

Alicia breathed more easily, relieved already.

"They're in a band, you say?" Kyle asked.

Alicia swiped a hand over her desk display, bringing it online again. It was easier to work from the conference room than it was to go all the way back to her personal office. "Yes, and they're playing tonight, if I remember right."

"Perfect, we get to go clubbing," Kyle said, sounding somewhat put-upon by that. "Kory is going to love that."

Alicia smiled. "Thanks for taking this on," she told him.

"We'll bill you for it," Kyle responded, not unkindly. "I'll report in later."

"That's all I ask," Alicia said. She was unsurprised when Kyle hung up without bidding her farewell.

After ending the call with Kyle Wynne, she brought up a display she hadn't looked at that day, because she had been focused on the other twin.

Tom Kaulitz, recent entrant to New York City, half-blood Nephilim, registered at birth as a city resident but gone for nearly twelve full years. He'd departed the city as an infant and returned as an adult.

He had a stock photo on Orion's files, as did all Nephilim blood who entered the city through the proper channels. He gazed directly at the camera, not smiling, though not frowning either. There was a determined set to his features, a slight furrow planted between his brows. He had brown eyes and long, light-brown dreadlocked hair; his only giveaway feature to betray his demon heritage was the notation on his file regarding crimson pupils.

Alicia could see the similarity to Bill, though there were enough superficial differences between the twins that someone who wasn't looking for it might not necessarily say right off that they were related. Tom's luminous beauty was every bit as stunning as Bill's – more so, perhaps, because he was obviously not made up, where Bill went with dramatic dark eye makeup and glossed lips.

Tom's statement upon entering the city had been that he was looking for his twin brother. He had been non-invasively scanned by a psychic who had corroborated that, as well as Tom's pledge that he intended no harm to New York or its denizens.

So how had it come about that Tom Kaulitz was now running a major crime circle in one of the city's rings, and the man who had previously held the honor was dead?

Priorities shifted. Alicia tapped her stylus against the table, frowning. Now that Kaulitz had found his twin, perhaps his goal had turned to fulfilling his baser, Nephilim drives – violence and the acquisition of territory.

It was the self-defense aspect that bothered her, though. Kellan and Sinclair had taken over the relevant cases from the Paranormal Division, and their investigation hadn't turned up any evidence to the contrary. Moreover, they weren't sure which twin had actually done it. They had approached Bill that afternoon as the potentially more reasonable of the pair to deal with. Of course, he'd betrayed nothing but irritation at their overtures.

“Well,” Alicia said aloud, rising from her chair and shutting the display down once more. “That's why we're at the place we're at.” She needed more information, both for her own peace of mind and so that her brilliant analyst could compile it. And so the Wynne brothers went once more into the breach.

* * *

"Thank you!" Bill yelled into his mic, flushed and beaming. "Thank you so much! You guys and gals are so great!"

He stood at the foreground of the stage, grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet, waving madly with his free hand. Each wave was greeted with screams as his red "The Idol" t-shirt rode up, exposing his low-riding pants and the black triple star on his hip. Most of the screams were from women and girls surging forward around the stage, but a fair few were from men. Each frantic peak of sound made Bill grin even harder.

“Thank you again--” Bill began, waving at the crush of people surrounding the stage. Tokio Hotel was playing a college campus bar that evening, and they had packed the two-story club wall to wall. Bill enjoyed the money that some of the bigger gigs they were scoring could bring in, but he loved the enthusiasm that the younger crowd brought to their concerts.

Before Bill could promise another encore or address the crowd again, Tom's hand was on his arm, locking in at his elbow joint, a thumb pressing into the tender skin at the hinge. Bill's head turned and his eyes met Tom's. The dark need in Tom's expression, the promise of the tongue that pressed in at his lip ring, caused an answering jolt low in Bill's belly...and further down.

 _Need you_ , that look told Bill. He shoved the mic back into its clamp on the stand and let Tom drag him off stage.

Bill knew that Tom loved playing guitar almost as much as he enjoyed fucking him... _almost._ The one fed into the other, and with the scorching heat that poured off both of them during their concerts, it was no surprise that Tom had to have him immediately after the last song in their set, the last suspended note still all but resonating on air.

They paused once they were offstage for an urgent, brutal kiss, full of teeth. Tom nipped his lips open and pushed his tongue in before Bill's teeth had parted wide enough, no doubt scraping himself but only making a low noise and holding Bill against the wall.

Bill whimpered, stroking his tongue hard against Tom's. He'd never been with anyone that he lusted for this much, this instantly; let alone someone he _needed_ on the level that Tom was fundamental to his existence, his next breath, and – of course – getting off.

A hand smacked Tom's shoulder and Tom pulled his mouth roughly from Bill's with a growl. Bill peered over Tom's arm and caught sight of Gustav going down the side corridor, a towel slung over one shoulder.

“Not in the hall,” was all Gustav said, and he continued toward the bathroom without a backward glance.

Tom nodded, and closed in as though to bite the side of Bill's neck.

“Not in the hall,” Bill gasped, pushing a hand out to cover his twin's mouth. Tom glowered at him, opening his mouth and lapping at Bill's sweaty fingers. The sensation zinged on a straight course for his groin, making him harder than he already was. He wanted Tom's mouth on his cock, those skilled fingers playing _him_ so skillfully, and above all he wanted Tom on him, in him. “Ahhh...dressing room?”

Tom pushed away from the wall and drew one of Bill's fingers between his lips, the tip of his tongue dabbling skillfully over the pad. 

If it was possible, Bill got _harder_. He stumbled down the hall with Tom's arm around his waist, reaching down to adjust himself in his jeans. Tom's breath was hot on Bill's neck as he turned his head to press an open-mouthed kiss on the nearest skin he could reach.

It was like a live wire being connected between them. Bill could get through an entire show, even with his body thrumming louder than the sound waves that slammed through the club, but when they touched, skin to bare skin, it completed some kind of circuit that made anything else unimportant compared to how he needed with his whole body to be with Tom.

They made it through the door to the dressing room, barely, and Tom was on him.

“Fuck,” Tom gritted as he pulled Bill into his arms, slamming the door with his foot. It made a cracking sound but held.

Bill wrapped his arms and legs around Tom as his twin lifted him up onto the dresser table beside the door, pressing their bodies together, nudging their foreheads and noses together. “Need you,” Bill voiced aloud, and opened his mouth with a tiny gasp as Tom's mouth covered his. He stroked his hands up and down Tom's strong back as Tom's hands went up his shirt.

“Get this off,” Tom grumbled, “or I'll rip it off.”

Bill wriggled back far enough to strip his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. He was surprised Tom wasn't already _in_ him, given the flare of urgency he'd seen in his twin's eyes; but then, sometimes this kind of craving could only be satisfied by as much touching as possible, spreading naked skin against skin. “I like this shirt,” Bill murmured, and gasped as Tom bent to take a nipple in his mouth. “Oh!”

"It's not in pieces yet because you like it," Tom gritted.

Bill could only whimper and push up against Tom's greedy mouth.

“Gonna fuck you,” Tom said, low. He nipped at Bill's skin before licking at his nipple with strong, teasing strokes.

“Do it,” Bill moaned, pushing his hips up. “Do it, stop talking about it. Want to feel you in me, Tomi. Want it _hard_.”

“Oh, it's gonna be hard,” Tom promised, drawing back to give Bill the enticing glimpse of swollen lips, glimmering dark eyes. “Turn around.” His hands were at Bill's jeans, undoing his belt with a hasty jingle.

Bill didn't even finish nodding as he unwound his legs from Tom's waist and flipped over, his naked belly flat against the wood of the dresser. Tom jerked his jeans down in transition, peeling his black boy-shorts down just far enough. Bill loved it like this, getting railed hard from behind, and knew Tom loved it just as much – but face to face contact was more frequent for both of them. He could never get tired of seeing Tom at the peak of his arousal, either; it was better than any guitar-induced high.

He whined softly as Tom penetrated him with one finger, then two. Bill wriggled, wanting more and resenting his own body's inability to be open and wet whenever Tom wanted him. He lost that thread of thought in the next instant as Tom gripped him by the hips, dragged him close, and mounted him in one long carefully calibrated thrust.

“Yes...yes,” Bill chanted, hands scrabbling at the wood as he tried to brace himself to receive and rock back against each small movement Tom was giving him, easy short revolutions of his hips before he built up to the serious fucking.

Tom groaned behind him, shoving him forward with a merciless twist of his hips that made Bill keen and try to spread himself wider, but Tom had all the leverage. About the only thing Bill could do was tilt his hips and try to encourage more, faster; he wanted every bit of Tom's cock that he could contain.

“Harder,” Bill encouraged, and when Tom's balls smacked his ass he shifted his plea to “...faster!”

Tom sped up, shifting his grip from Bill's hips to seize below the curves of his ass and crowd him farther up the dresser. He was fucking into Bill now in such fast, continual strokes now that Bill couldn't tell when one ended and the next began; he only knew Tom was so gloriously close to his prostate and with one brilliant shift in position...

The door creaked open.

Bill tried to get his arms under him, turning his face for the door with a scowl as Tom slowed, presumably to do the same.

"Oh, Jesu--" Georg gasped, flinging up a hand to shield his eyes. "How many times do we have to beg you; not in our common areas? Or use a lock? Or, you know, wait 'til you get home!?"

"Fuckin' knock," Tom gritted, riveting Bill's attention back to the essentials as he held Bill's ass spread open with both hands and thrust in to give him some serious, slow deep-dicking. “This is your own fault.”

"Can't wait," Bill warbled happily, balance restored to his world as Tom nailed his spot to perfection. Bill arched his back and braced himself so hard against the dresser that the wood creaked and split under his hands. "Shit! More, Tomi, faster! I don't think this dresser table is going to last much longer."

Tom grunted and obliged, angling more steeply for Bill's prostate and slamming into him hard and fast.

Georg fled, pursued by the sound of Bill's laughter even as he slammed the door.

“Oh...ohh, so good,” Bill assured his brother as Tom kept going at that frenzied pace. Gasping, already sweating from the prolonged vigor of their concert, it didn't take long before Bill was painting the dresser with milky white ribbons of come. He shuddered and tensed down on Tom with rhythmic intensity.

Tom grunted something garbled but vaguely affectionate sounding, petted Bill's sweaty spine with the palm of his hand, and stilled for an instant before he grabbed Bill's hips and pulsed against him, buried deeply and moving in his last, shallow thrusts while he came.

“Mmm,” Bill sighed luxuriantly, before trying to unfold his cramped arms. The dresser creaked warning. “Clean me up so I can get up, Tomi.”

Tom snorted but pulled out, giving Bill's rear a final caress before shuffling off.

“'S nice,” Bill decided, somewhat sleepy with his head laid on his arm while Tom toweled him off. “Let's go get some food and drinks.” He bounced to his feet and pulled his boyshorts and jeans up, thrilled with the state of the world, Tom, amazing post-concert afterglow, and the frequency of his sex life.

Tom wrinkled his nose at him and leaned in for a kiss. “If we were home, I'd have you all over again, but slow,” he said, tonguing at his own lip ring for a second.

Bill's eyes flared. “Sounds like a promise,” he said, and hooked a finger into Tom's nearest belt-loop. “Let's do it later, okay?”

Tom skewed his mouth in disapproval, but fell into step with Bill as they left the dressing room.

Georg was waiting up the hallway, arms folded. He tossed his hair over one shoulder and pushed away from the wall as Bill sauntered toward him, unable to suppress an unrepentant grin. Georg didn't say anything, though; merely shook his head and moved off for the dressing room.

They hadn't gotten very far up the hallway when there came a cry of “Ahh, god! It reeks of boysex in here!”

Bill grinned, all sharp teeth, and found Tom grinning in the same manner beside him. “You like to rile him up,” Bill observed, tucking his arm companionably through Tom's.

“He likes to get riled up,” Tom countered. “He ought to know better than to come right through the door to an enclosed space near the stage directly after a concert. He brings it on himself, Bill. I swear, next thing you know he's going to ask if he can watch, during.”

Bill wrinkled his nose. He was a bit of an exhibitionist, it was true, and he didn't mind Tom nuzzling and being all but wrapped around him in public, but he didn't want anyone to watch them during the act. That was a little too much for him. It was why he wouldn't let Tom have him on the steps of a class building when he was picking him up, for example. There was a taboo against it – public sex – but for Bill it was more a matter of personal preference.

Besides, he didn't want anyone else seeing Tom's come face.

“That's not going to happen,” he voiced aloud, in answer to that thought and Tom's ridiculous suggestion. He steered them for the bar, grinning and fist-bumping people who wanted to greet them or crowded close, but not stopping. Tom's expression tended to turn away most people who attempted to socialize with them after gigs.

He was going to have to do something about that when it involved people that had the potential to advance their career, but for now Bill let it pass. He wanted nothing more right now than to be on Tom's arm enjoying a drink while the two of them circulated free of encumbrance.

“Are Georg and Gustav meeting us out front?” Bill said, not straining himself to be heard over the noise of the packed-in crowd, knowing Tom would hear him anyhow.

Tom's shrug transmitted through him by touch. “Maybe,” he replied. “If they want to get laid, they won't be having drinks with us.”

“True,” Bill allowed. He scanned over the crush of people that stood between them and the bar and tensed.

“What is it?” Tom said instantly.

Bill frowned. His eyes had caught on a pair of men lounging bar-side; past college age, both of them, but one of them was still young-looking. The way they held themselves, easy yet somehow simultaneously alert, reminded Bill of predators – of the men who had approached him with intention to do violence. Even motionless their postures reminded Bill of Tom in that sense that Tom seemed capable of launching himself right into action no matter how relaxed he seemed on the surface. They were both dark-haired, with square, attractive faces; the older one had dark stubble around his mouth and jaw. Their clothes were a cut above the casual dress most of the college students around them were wearing, too.

One of them caught Bill's gaze – the younger one. He had a full mouth that broke into a wide smile to reveal perfect white teeth.

Something told Bill this wasn't an ordinary admirer. “At the bar,” he told Tom, giving a pull along their joined arms and lifting his chin to gesture.

Tom sucked in a harsh breath and stiffened beside him. “Bloods,” he murmured, using the informal term he'd adopted for a human with strong Nephilim blood. Enough to be a potential threat, or ally.

“Yours?” Bill inquired, alert. Tom had several on his payroll now, as part of the territory he'd acquired.

“Not that I recognize,” Tom said in a low growl. He surged forward in the crowd, scattering people around them and causing a ripple of distress as the nearest ones cried out and stumbled away.

“Tom,” Bill said, grasping his twin's arm and hauling him short. He was alert, yes, but he didn't see any promise of menace in the younger one's smile. “For fuck's sake, be polite.”

“They're on my turf--” Tom began.

“Technically,” Bill snapped, “we are on Guile's turf, being this close to campus.”

Tom went still beside him. His gorgeous, sweat-shiny face rotated back toward Bill. “Hunh. Didn't think of that.”

“Obviously,” Bill said, rolling his eyes. He hooked his arm through Tom's again. “Let's just see what they want, all right?”

Tom looked dubious, but nodded. “We can try it your way...”

“We're not going to brawl in the middle of a crowded club!” Bill told him, gathering his brows in a glare for emphasis.

“If you say so,” Tom said, and gave him an unexpectedly boyish grin.

Bill rolled his eyes again. If Tom was going to be that way about it, he definitely wasn't going to tell him the younger one had winked at him. "We're going to have a civilized meeting," he decided. To be clear, he added, "Let me do most of the talking."

Tom's sigh was audible to Bill even through the dull roar of the club.

It was all the agreement Bill needed for now. He gave Tom an affectionate hip-bump and surged forward to meet the two men whose attention was fixed on them. He could not be so lucky to expect they were people from the music industry.

However, he'd treat them as friendly until proved otherwise. At that point, Tom would deal with them if it became necessary.

"You need more training," Tom mumbled under his breath. "These guys are professionals."

"We'll get back to that argument later," Bill said back, sing-song.

"You keep pushing it back and some day there might not be a later," Tom griped.

Bill put on his most brilliant smile to cover up his stab of anxiety. He'd been in enough trouble recently to recognize that Tom was right. All he could do for now was take each situation as it came.


	7. Secrets

When wrangling demons, it was rather like a complicated game of Flinch.

"Remember, approach, but don't engage," Kyle warned his brother as they straightened up from their position leaning against the club bar. It had been ages since they had been to such a college dive.

"Fuck, how am I not supposed to engage?" Kory breathed. "That singer is smokin', Kyle; I want to take him home."

"That's definitely out of scope," Kyle told Kory, giving his horndog brother a frown.

When dealing with demons of the highest order, Nephilim-blood, it was even more important to keep in mind the respective power levels of those involved. Kory was able to tell just as well as Kyle was that the two young men headed their way were half-bloods, and the reed-thin guitarist with the headful of tied-back dreadlocks all but shimmered with the impression of power. Kory's good sense was often drained right out of his head due to the demands of his dick, however, and the beautiful black-haired singer was good looking enough to make even Kyle think twice about his mission.

"Couldn't we just...?" Kory made a short, descriptive gesture.

The twins came into range and Kyle's nostrils flared as he caught their scent. The Nephilim blood they'd both inherited in an eighth measure, but no less powerful for that, had manifested differently when split between Kyle and his brother. Kory had exceptionally keen sight at incredible distances; Kyle had overwhelming capability to discern and interpret scent.

"Don't even think it," Kyle muttered, using one of their personal hand signs to reinforce the gesture. As the Kaulitz twins came within killing distance, not only was Kory getting clear glaring alerts as to Tom's caliber, but there was a new piece of information falling into place that hadn't been on the dossiers Alicia had sent to them.

There were subtle gradations and variations of scent that most humans could never pick up on, their senses being far too dull. It was possible for Kyle, with his heightened perception, to discern the similarity of scent that distinguished close relatives from others who lived in proximity – lovers versus roommates, friends as opposed to siblings.

As Tom and Bill approached, Kyle sampled the air and realized the similarity between the twins' scents was overlaid with the glaring indicator that screamed to any Nephilim that they were taken, claimed, mated in all the most emphatic ways. Bill's admirable charms were unavailable to anyone but the darkly-glaring half-blood hovering at his right shoulder, and the scent of recent sex was still on them.

The twins were mated to each other.

Kyle glanced to his brother, quirking a brow in bemusement to see if his younger brother had picked up on it. Kory could be a little dense sometimes, especially when his dick had perked up and taken notice of some beautiful young thing.

Beside him, Kory's face had gone white. Kory straightened, assuming a more defensive posture and stepping in to close ranks with Kyle.

Kyle's mouth tugged in a brief acknowledgment before he clasped his hands to his opposite elbows. The twins were within speaking distance now and Bill's darkly-outlined eyes moved over them, assessing him before flashing to Kory. Bill was dressed in flashy club gear; a bright red t-shirt and studded suspenders that held up clinging black trousers, huge lace-up steel-toed boots and dark, smudged makeup that was running at the corner of his eyes. Beside him, Tom was decked out in loose casual clothing, the masses of his dreadlocked hair held back by a cap over a beanie. His face was impassive compared to Bill's calculating expression, but the way he held himself, tightly coiled, was on alert with the promise of violence.

"Hello," Bill said, a winning smile breaking across his face. He'd settled on Kory, giving him big eyes and flicking his tongue against his teeth. A metal stud made brief appearances as he continued speaking. "Did you want an autograph?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes at the teen. Bill's demeanor was flawless. It was an innocent question, reasonably pitched, proffered no doubt because Kory had been staring at him so intensely from the bar. Even so, he had a lingering aura of tense watchfulness as he waited for their response. His body language was guarded even though he'd put the question to Kory in a perfect, friendly sort of openness.

There were many directions the encounter could go; most of them bad. Kyle tried not to look at Tom directly, knowing a direct stare could be interpreted as challenge by someone raised as Nephilim.

"Hey, that's awesome and I'd love to take you up on it, but we're here because you've gotten Orion's attention," Kory said outright.

Kyle shot his brother a disgusted look. "Nice," he commented, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops to quash his immediate urge to smack his brother on the nearest broad shoulder. Setting the tone of the encounter with violence on his part would be a mistake at this point, he sensed. Bill was regarding them with an edgy sort of amusement, but there was no humor in Tom's face and he appeared ready to kill them on the spot, not diverted in the least by Kory's snide remarks.

"What?" Kory said, pulling the wounded expression Kyle didn't even have to _see_ to know it was being used on him. "It's true."

The Kaulitz twins were holding themselves tensely as creatures on the verge of spooking. All Kyle or Kory would have to do at this point was say something like 'criminal charges' and they'd bolt. Kyle was deeply frustrated with his brother; they had come for reconnaissance, the type only they would be able to follow through with, and Kory was blowing their cover already.

Then again, considering the way the twins had made a beeline straight for the bar, eyes fixed on them the whole while, Kyle and his brother had never really been incognito to begin with.

"Can we talk?" Kory continued, spreading his hands in the universal gesture to show he came unarmed.

Kyle happened to know the implication was a lie; he could tell where three different weapons were right at that moment simply from the way his brother's clothing hung. From the flash of Tom's eyes, he could tell Tom was noting the same. Kyle gave Tom the once-over, noting that despite the loose clothing that could have hidden any number of weapons, Tom didn't seem to be packing heat. He was either confident he could outpace or outwit any opponent, was unused to being challenged on turf where he was comfortable, or it was sheer arrogance. Kyle could not personally imagine leaving his apartment without at least one blade and one gun on him at all times.

"We _are_ talking," Tom said, his expression cold.

"I mean somewhere with more privacy," Kory clarified, looking around and tugging at his earlobe. "Unless you want the general public hearing about Neph--"

Kyle hissed at his brother at the same time Bill cut in with a quick, sharp, "There's an alley behind the building."

"Bill," Tom spoke up darkly.

Unseen by his brother, who was behind and to the right of him, Bill rolled his eyes. "They're not here to _take us out_ , Tom."

"I'd like to take you out," Kory spoke up, his partial leer and forward body language making his meaning obvious.

Tom was the one to hiss something this time, brushing forward and knocking Bill's shoulder out of the way to stand in front of him as though Bill were incapable of fending off lewd advances. Rather, Kyle realized, as though he shouldn't _have_ to. The power imbalance between their two brotherly pairs was a jagged chasm, an insurmountable abyss, and despite all his weapons Kyle didn't feel _safe_ , not truly, as Tom stood in front of them with dark flaring eyes and unseen power crackling over his tall, lean frame.

It wasn't arrogance, Kyle decided.

To Nephilim senses, Bill was marked by the scent of their sex, in addition to Tom's bite standing out proud on one side of his neck, as clearly as though a "KEEP AWAY" sign were hung alongside the jingling chains on his chest. Though Kyle and his brother had never lived with a Nephilim enclave outside of the Wall, Kyle was well enough aware of the unspoken protocol never to touch what couldn't be yours.

Unfortunately for him, his little brother was either dense or stupid in his lust.

"I apologize," Kyle spoke up at once, clamping a steely hand onto Kory's scruff and dragging him back a few respectful paces. "His upbringing never took properly. We're not here to hit on you, carry out a hit on you, or do anything but talk."

Tom glared at them both for a long moment before jerking his head in a brief nod. "Outside the club." He looped an arm over Bill's shoulders and they moved off toward a door on the far side of the packed dance floor. The crowd parted for them like rippling water.

Kyle turned to his idiot brother. "Are you trying to become a dead man, and take me with you?" he hissed.

Kory raised his hands defensively. "I didn't think there was any harm--"

"Harm? _Harm?_ Christ, this is coming from the jerkoff who tried to dip his wick in _Cal Pierce's_ mate," Kyle muttered, palming his forehead.

"Rue is really hot," Kory defended himself.

"And really damned taken!" Kyle barked, knowing for certain both Tom and Bill would be able to hear every word, given their percentage of Nephilim blood, and not really caring. This was about laying down the law with Kory, and Kyle was tired of his brother constantly letting his libido charge them right into danger. "Just the way anyone could see..." He trailed off, gesturing with his head in the direction of the departing twins.

"All right, calm down," Kory said, appeasing. "We going to finish the job, or are you going to go grandma on me for the rest of the night?"

Kyle cast his remaining eye upward in a silent plea to the heavens for patience not to kill the brother who tested him constantly. "Asshole," he pronounced, and stalked off into the crowd, following the lure of Bill's tiny hips in his tattered, boot cut jeans.

He, too, wasn't immune to Bill's charms, but unlike his brother, Kyle wasn't suicidal.

They piled out of the club into the cool of night-time air, breath pouring like steam in the blackness of the alley as the club door slammed shut behind Kory. Kyle stuffed his hands into his pockets and lowered his brows, appraising the twins. Tom had Bill pushed up against the far brick wall of the alley and they appeared to be on the verge of making out.

"So," Kory said, "whose side are you on?"

Kyle groaned aloud and didn't even bother stepping on his brother's foot. There went nuance, or the subtlety of any approach Alicia had intended they embark upon. Surveillance, observe and report back. That had gone so well for them.

The twins both twisted around to face them, Tom with his arm still hooked around Bill.

"Bill's," Tom said, simultaneous to Bill's cheery exclamation of "Tom's."

"Right," Kyle said, because it could not be that easy.

"Why is Orion scouting us?" Bill returned, blunt as Kory's directest quip.

"Scouting you?" Kory repeated, as Kyle's brows climbed.

"That's not why we're here," Kyle returned, mentally trying to pinpoint where this entire encounter had gone badly wrong. He knew the twins would sense he wasn't lying and had no concerns on that score. However, they'd been entrusted with a specific assignment and that was blown all to hell. Their mission had nothing to do with actual contact; and yet, the twins were the ones who'd approached _them_.

Tom produced a skeptic snort, looking them over. "Observe and report?"

Kyle shrugged to indicate rueful acknowledgment.

"You suck at it," Tom said outright.

Kyle cut an irritated glare Kory's way. Kory raised his hands in exasperation. "We were the only two remotely Nephilim men in a club full of college kids, and you think it's _my_ fault we weren't incognito?"

Kyle sighed.

"So what do you want?" Bill spoke up, his dark eyes curious.

"We don't want anything," Kory replied, before pausing. He gave Bill the eye once more. "Well."

Tom hissed, his arm tightening around Bill. "Don't even think it."

"Well, if the two of you are a _package_ deal, we could work with that..." Kory began, stopping when Bill's expression transformed into a disgusted sneer.

"I _only_ sleep with Tom," Bill stated, wrinkling his nose in an expression that managed to be adorable without detracting one whit from his beauty.

He was young; they both were, barely seventeen in fact. Kyle had reviewed the file before they'd set out for the evening. Still, he and Tom both possessed a captivating sort of beauty that would make anyone want them, human or Nephilim, and Kory certainly wasn't immune. Kyle rather fancied them, himself, but he was intrigued with the thought of trying to nail Tom, who put himself across as so completely dominant. It was never going to happen, though, and he banished the thought.

Kyle could see why Alicia wanted to start in on the twins with no further delay. They were young enough they might still be biddable.

"You said you wanted to talk," Tom interrupted, hauling them all back to the point.

"Pretty much a friendly visit to see where your affiliations lie," Kory said. It was _most_ of the truth, and it wasn't even a lie.

Threat assessment was more like it, Kyle knew, and Kory knew it as well. At least Kyle's idiot brother wasn't so far gone as to say _that_.

Now that they were standing toe to toe with the twins, Kyle knew instinctively they were pretty fucking threatening. If they wanted to, or if the Wynnes made a single wrong move, the twins could obliterate them in a heartbeat, leaving nothing more than a stain on the wall.

As to whether they'd _want_ to... Kyle's eyes narrowed. So far as he could tell, that was all up to Bill. And that was the sort of observation Alicia had sent them for.

"And we told you," Bill said, buffing his black, white-tipped nails on his jacket. "I'm with Tom, and Tom's with me."

"We can see that," Kory said, his tone equal parts admiring and disappointed.

Kyle made a warning noise in his throat but Tom didn't even bristle.

"So long as _you_ recognize it," Bill said, his tone dire.

Tom added, all but under his breath, "Others haven't."

Kyle nodded as that last piece clicked into place. Upon entering the city, Tom would have sworn to do the humans no harm. It was a requirement of legitimate entry, and if he'd come in search of his brother, he would have had to enter the city through the proper channels. That oath would have been verified through a non-invasive psychic scan, and he'd passed clearance or he wouldn't be standing here within the Walls of New York City.

What could cause Tom to countermand that oath? So far as Kyle could see, a threat to Bill would pretty much do it.

He wanted to ask Tom whether someone was hunting them, but controlled the urge. It wasn't part of his mission, and Tom most certainly was not one of his allies.

"So tell Orion to stop stalking us," Bill snapped, shrugging off Tom's arm to stand on his own. He straightened his tiny red t-shirt, which had the unfortunate results of flashing a slice of belly skin and making Kory drool again. "We aren't even doing anything of interest to them."

That rejoinder made Kyle's brow furrow. That had the bite of truth, and Bill seemed so genuinely irked.

He reminded himself that Kory could seem ingenuous, too, if he didn't know about something Kyle himself had initiated. Even twins didn't necessarily know everything about one another.

Or Bill knew of Tom's criminal syndicate activities, and didn't see it as _wrong_.

"Thanks for your time," Kyle said in a biting tone, raising his brows and giving Kory a look that reinforced _we are leaving._

Kory's full mouth pursed and he loosed a disappointed, whistling sigh. "If you two ever change your minds..."

"About sex with you, or working for Orion?" Bill inquired with an arch of one dark, heavily made-up brow.

Kory grinned, undeterred. "Either!"

"I contract," Tom spoke up again, surprising Kyle and Kory as well, from the startled white of the eyes that turned his way. "But I won't do any big jobs and Bill is happy with his music."

"Uh-huh," Kyle grunted, and snagged his brother's elbow.

"So, you see how it is," Bill concluded, raising a heavily beringed hand. He waved. "On your way, now."

Kyle's lip curled at being dismissed by a child more than two decades his junior, but he dragged Kory from the alleyway and was glad to leave intact.

They were silent as they left the club. Kyle was thoughtful, mulling over the encounter; and he kept quiet to allow his brother to bend his superior hearing toward the Kaulitzes.

After about half a block, Kory shook his head.

"Nothing?" Kyle prompted.

"Oh, there's something," Kory replied, a lascivious grin spreading over his features.

Kyle shook his head, lips compressing. It wasn't a surprise to him that the twins had decided to have one another in the alleyway, or whatever else they'd been doing; or that Kory had eavesdropped shamelessly. He had been hoping they'd say _something_ that could have ended up being useful, though.

"What?" Kory challenged. "Tell me you wouldn't take them to bed. Go on, tell me; I dare you."

Kyle rolled his eyes, but he couldn't deny it. "I'd want a negotiated set of rules beforehand," he mumbled.

They walked the rest of the way back to their old-fashioned gunmetal gray Mustang in companionable silence, bumping shoulders once or twice.

"So what do you think?" Kyle asked his brother as they climbed into the classic 'Stang. He wanted to know Kory's overall opinion of the Kaulitzes, their potential threat level, the current risk of whether they could go rogue.

Kory turned in his seat to look him full in the face. "I think those twins are having a lot of sex," he replied, completely serious.

Kyle shook his head in disgust at his brother's almost certainly deliberate misunderstanding. “Well, that's a factor, too. I didn't think it was possible for siblings to be mated.”

“They're Nephilim,” Kory reminded him unnecessarily. 

Kyle pursed his lips. It was true that demon blood had a habit of blowing whatever consistent data humans liked to pin on them. Despite the penchant for Nephilim to have casual sex with close relatives, however, Kyle had never encountered any who'd mated within their immediate family.

“Yeah, yeah...”

"We gonna put that in the report?" Kory wanted to know. "That they're mated, I mean."

Kyle turned an incredulous look on him.

"What?" Kory said defensively.

"Of course it's going in the report, it's relevant information," Kyle replied. "They're _mated to each other,_ that makes them even more dangerous."

Kyle hadn't quite pinned down an overall threat level so far as the Kaulitz twins were concerned, but one thing was for sure. If Bill was in danger, then everything in Tom's immediate path between himself and mate was in peril, as well.


	8. So Much to Say

As Tom slotted his car alongside the curb in between two other vehicles, he glanced over at the luminous beauty of Bill in profile, reveling in a mingled sense of pride and possessiveness that the gorgeous creature beside him was _his_. It was momentarily eclipsed by a surge of satisfaction at his awesome parking job; he knew how to treat his babies right. He shifted into park and set his hand on Bill's thigh.

"Do I have to remind you again?" Bill said, raising a black, groomed brow.

Tom gave a tiny sigh. "No sex at Mom's house," he replied, dredging up what Bill had told him about a dozen times over the course of the day, as though repetition would make it stick. "And the car isn't reinforced yet, so no sex in my car, either."

"Yes," Bill said, tilting his nose to a dignified angle. "So stop trying to turn me on."

Tom barely cracked a grin. "Oh, I don't need to touch you in order to manage that."

Bill huffed, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. He was wearing a black short-sleeve sweater with the upper third studded with large silver rivets. Tom had sized him up and dressed in white to offset him.

"You're nervous," Tom noted. He could tell from posture alone, though he had the added helpful cue of Bill's scent, a rising sharpness that tickled Tom's nose with anxiety.

"A bit," Bill acknowledged. "It's our mom."

"So?" Tom said, brow furrowing. He couldn't begin to imagine what Bill was getting at with that statement. It wasn't as though Bill was introducing Tom to her for the first time – and back then, Bill hadn't been nervous. He'd been mad at their mother for keeping the knowledge of his twin from him.

Tom occasionally wondered if the evening would have ended up somewhat differently, the night he had met Bill in that dark nightclub, seduced him with touch and taken him home and laid claim to his body at once. He wondered if there would have been more resistance from Bill; more pursuit from him. He was sure of the end result, though.

They'd been born for each other, shaped to rejoin as soon as their paths had crossed again.

"So?" Bill repeated, tapping black nails along one bicep. "Imagine taking _me_ over to House Kaulitz for dinner, with your – our – father and whatever demon concubine he's got going on."

Tom gave a slow blink. "Well, that would more than likely end in a fight to the death, given he's kept you from me for most our lives..."

"Oh, never mind!" With that exclamation, Bill jerked his door open and vaulted to the curb, making Tom wince as he slammed the car door shut.

It was no use enjoining Bill to be careful when he'd done it on _purpose_.

Tom got out of the car, shutting his door more carefully. He was relieved to note that Bill was still on the curb, shifting from one foot to the other with a kind of vibrant nervous energy the likes of which Tom hadn't seen in a while.

"It's not 'never mind,'" Tom murmured, catching up to Bill and drawing his twin into his arms. Bill put up a token resistance before letting himself be coaxed into Tom's embrace, the two of them fitting like completed puzzle pieces. "It's bothering you, and I don't understand."

Bill twisted in his arms until they were eye to eye. "Sometimes I forget," he murmured, stroking Tom's jaw with his black-manicured nails. "How not-human you are."

"Just as human as you," Tom responded, smoothing his hand down the plane of Bill's lower back.

"Yeah, but not raised that way," Bill said. "No matter how well you seem to fit in, there's things that are different. Things I'm not even sure I can explain."

"Why don't you try?" Tom urged, looking down into Bill's confused brown eyes. At close range, he could see the red pupil at the core of each iris. "I'm your twin, Bill. I want to understand everything about you. Like it should have been from the beginning."

Bill made a tiny, frustrated noise but he was nodding. "This is the first length of time we're going to spend with our mother since...well, all of that newly-mated...er, drive."

"The non-stop fucking," Tom agreed.

Bill rolled his eyes. "Yes, that. So I want her to be...I don't know, proud of us? To see us together and know this is right for us. I mean, we've got her acknowledgment but not exactly her blessing."

Tom nodded, still frowning. "You want our mother to accept our relationship," he tried re-stating it to make sure he'd understood.

"Yes," Bill said, and sighed. "That's part of it. I want her to see us together, and know it's right. That we complete each other, in every way. I want her to _approve._ "

"Okay," Tom said, fairly sure he was following what Bill was laying out for him.

"And part of that is how we comport ourselves in public," Bill continued softly. "We're in human society and it should be...like a human couple, and not like a pair of horny demons."

Tom's brows rose.

Bill pouted over at him.

"I'm not sure I know how to _be_ anything but a horny demon..." Tom began, breaking off with a grin when Bill made an exasperated noise and punched his shoulder. 

"But you know what I mean..." Bill trailed off, and gave him dubious eyes.

Tom smirked at him. "Well enough," he said after letting Bill look uncertainly at him for a long moment. "I hacked the airwaves when I was outside the Wall, you know. Where do you think I got my boss fashion sense?"

"You're boss of something, all right," Bill said sourly, but good humor had returned to the lines of his face. "Get it?"

"You want us to play normal, human couple for Mom," Tom said, and continued straight-faced, "No rape on the kitchen table in front of her and her partner, then."

Bill made an exasperated noise, moving to strike him playfully again, and Tom caught his wrist and reeled him in.

They kissed for a moment, reaffirming their connection in the play of tongue over lip, seeking reassurance in the way their mouths melded and finding it together, as always. When Tom drew back, Bill's eyes remained half-closed and his breathing had sped up somewhat. He licked his lower lip, sucked in a breath, and his eyes flashed over at Tom as he grinned.

"I've never had someone to impress, or look up to before," Tom admitted, rubbing an uneasy hand at the base of his neck. "Someone...you want to be proud of you? It was always a struggle, with Jorg. I _hated_ him for so long, because I knew he'd taken my most important person from me."

Bill beamed over at him. "Well, I'm right here," he said. "And our mom is _not_ like Jorg. So let's all get along for a night, okay?"

"I'm with you," Tom said, moving to go for the front steps of their mother's comfortable two-story home. He nudged Bill's shoulder, causing his twin to fall into step with him. "So, let's do this."

Bill cast a glimmering, pleased look in his direction as they went, and it warmed Tom clear through. He'd do just about anything for that smile.

Including suffer through the unknown territory of such a domestic family dinner.

As they took the steps side by side, Bill's fingers wound through Tom's.

Tom had to dip his head, the bill of his cap overshadowing any potential grin as the door was answered without much delay. They were expected, and it was the dinner hour.

"Evening, chaps," Gordon Trumper said amiably, hooking a thumb in the belt-loop at his waist and cracking the door open wide in order to accommodate their entry.

Tom nodded, mumbling a laconic "evening" in counterpoint to Bill's effusive greeting. Their mother had chosen a dark-haired man of unremarkable height for her second partner, his long face somewhere between plain and handsome. He was of good humor, an easygoing temperament, and it was easy to see why Simone had chosen someone so steady and in some ways unremarkable after the risky excitement of her first partnering.

"Gordon, how are things at the music school?" Bill inquired pleasantly.

Tom was content enough that his twin retained his grip on his hand as they moved from the front stoop to the hallway that branched from a straightaway to a living room on the right, a staircase leading up to the left. Tom knew from experience that the straight path led to a large, homey kitchen that had a view onto a small but artfully landscaped backyard.

"Great, I've got an amazing crop of budding musicians this year," Gordon replied, turning his back in a thoroughly human, alien-to-Tom gesture that wasn't intended to convey weakness or flight. It only meant Gordon was leading them toward the kitchen.

"I always had such a good time there," Bill said, tone reminiscent.

Tom glanced at his twin sidelong. It was simultaneously informative and maddening to find out about the bits of Bill's life before he had become a part of it. Tom had learned guitar while growing up at House Kaulitz; Bill had expressed himself through voice and song at Gordon's school, and learned to write the lyrics to which Tom knew how to craft music for them both. Pieces of the puzzle, always out of joint until Tom had come to fit them back together.

Still, Tom wondered about the milestones before he had come along. He bristled possessively as he wondered, not for the first time, who'd had his Bill's virginity.

"Tomi," Bill murmured beside him. "Be good."

Tom inhaled and clenched his jaw, realizing only then that he'd begun to growl softly, almost sub-vocally.

Gordon glanced over his shoulder. "Problem? Anything I can do?" It was a credit to the man's unflappable sort of calm that he could sound concerned without seeming rattled.

"It's nothing," Bill assured him. "Tom's being possessive."

"Not of me...?" Gordon asked, eyes round.

"No, not at all," Bill said, flapping his free hand. "Only wondering things you don't need to know about."

"Ah." Gordon dropped the matter.

After Gordon had gone through the door that led to the kitchen, leaving it swinging on its hinges behind him, Bill paused beside it for a moment and took Tom's face between his hands.

"It's nothing," Tom echoed Bill's words from the minute before. "Missing those parts of you I could never have."

Bill breathed in deeply, leaning forward to touch their foreheads together. "I know," he murmured, sounding sympathetic and stricken. "But I was always thinking of you."

"You couldn't have waited," Tom said, shrugging one shoulder. "Any more than I could have. We have a high sex drive."

"Yes," Bill agreed, the ghost of his wicked smile crossing his face as he gazed into Tom's eyes. "Okay now?"

"Okay," Tom said, taking his armful of lithe twin and pressing their bodies as closely together as they could get without being mid-coitus. "Let's have dinner."

The kitchen was as Tom remembered it: plenty of space, a round family-style table beside wide, high glass windows. The table was covered with plates and dishes full of food covered in glass domes. Tom swallowed and tried to remember the last meal he'd eaten. The fragrance hit his empty stomach like a hammer.

"Tom, Bill, it's so good to see you," Simone said warmly, setting aside a pair of oven mitts. She drifted from the kitchen island and came over to bestow a hug on Bill. "Missed you."

"Missed you too," Bill replied at once, hugging her back with restraint that Tom could see and Simone surely appreciated.

Simone disengaged from Bill and stood before Tom for a moment, her dark eyes thoughtful. Their mother was a small, neat woman with short blond hair that framed her long oval face. There was a distinct similarity to Tom and his twin in the prominence of her nose, the shape of her mouth, even the way her eyes were set. The most immediate thing Tom always noticed about her, though, was the power that all but lit up the air around her. Simone was a witch – perhaps the most powerful one in New York City – but she didn't work for Orion, who employed most of the psychic and strength-talented roster of people on humanity's side. She ran her own business selling wards and other products of her trade, never doing work that could be used for violence, or contracted to corporations.

"Mom," Tom greeted her. It was still a foreign word in his mouth. Standing there in Simone's kitchen, facing the woman herself, Tom began to understand at a gut level why Bill had been so nervous. Here was someone for whom Bill cared deeply, and who he was attached to perhaps as strongly as he was attached to Tom himself. Yet Tom and Simone were virtual strangers, and the possibility of hurting one another without thinking, or floundering upon some error that would dismay or inconvenience one or both of them, was high.

"Tom," Simone replied in kind, her mouth curving even as her eyes remained solemn.

Tom wasn't sure whether to open his arms for her, or wait until she initiated the gesture. Even as he puzzled through that, Bill nudged his ribs.

"Don't," Simone spoke to Bill. "If he wants to, it's up to him--"

"It's fine," Tom replied. He gave her a tempered grin calculated to appear shy. "Bill speaks for me, in everything."

Bill opened his mouth.

"Almost everything," Tom tacked on, disgruntled. "I'm not switching over my wardrobe."

Bill sighed, but didn't appear put out whatsoever as Tom gathered their mother into his arms. She smelled sweet and astringent, like a blend of floral herbs and soapy tinctures. She was fragile and he was conscious of that as he enfolded her in a brief hug.

It was odd, Tom thought. There was something that sparked within him at their mother's touch, similar to the protectiveness he felt for Bill, but a category all in its own. When they parted, Simone was giving him a real smile, her eyes fully engaged.

"Welcome," she said, and turned her head to include Bill in it, as well. "Are the two of you hungry?"

"Starved," Bill said with enthusiasm. "I hope you served up a whole bison."

Simone snorted. "We save that for special occasions around here," she replied, dry. "Have a seat, boys. Drinks?"

More at ease than he had been, Tom took a place at the laden table, seeking out the seat he'd chosen for himself before, on his last visit. Bill took the chair beside him, giving Tom a sweet smile that managed to court the knife's edge of impish.

Drinks were served up, and Simone joined them at the table, taking a place beside Gordon. "I assumed you'd try most of the foods that Bill enjoys..."

"No vegetables," Bill put in, as Simone began to lift domes off the dishes on the table, gesturing for them to do the same.

"Ugh," Tom added.

Simone shook her head, giving them both a broad smile. "Bill always did live off pizza and pasta, all through high school. I don't know how you get along without proper servings of veg..."

Bill coughed and nudged Tom's nearest foot and Tom flashed a grin his way.

"...and if that was some kind of dirty joke, your mother doesn't need to hear about it."

"How is business?" Bill asked, changing the subject as though shifting clunky gears.

"Fair," Simone replied, giving a half-shrug. "I've begun to diversify from my main line of defensive wards and glyphs to other types of products. It's been a little slow given how safe the city has been for the past few years, without any Nephilim claiming the territory outside the Wall."

Tom bent his head to disguise a smile. He hadn't come to the city to acquire his own territory, it was true, but those uninhabited lands out there were looking _very_ tempting. For him, they carried no associated taint or 'curse' that other, older Nephilim might attach to lands that had been purged so suddenly and unexpectedly of all Nephilim life. The thought of building up his own power base, from which he could challenge his father and stand as his own Nephilim, was one that had nagged at Tom and resurfaced on more than one occasion.

His foremost concern was protecting Bill. His own territory – that would be a hell of a way to secure it.

Bill's foot nudged his again, and Tom shook himself from his introspection to spoon up the dish that was being passed around.

"No casserole, you sneaked green beans into it," Bill said reproachfully, returning it to Gordon.

Tom twitched his nose, scenting the same green notes that must have clued Bill in.

"I swear, you were one of the pickiest children alive," Simone said, but her tone was fond.

"Our bodies are more geared toward protein," Tom said, and Bill snickered again.

Simone rolled her eyes. "Boys, please. Everyone knows semen is composed primarily of sugar, and that joke hasn't been funny for over a century, if ever."

Tom lowered his eyes to his plate and picked out the different elements of a home-cooked meal. In his mind, he contrasted it with formal affairs or even the evening spread that had been hosted at the cold, formal hall within House Kaulitz.

"So," Simone said, pushing the tines of her fork back and forth around a light salad. "How is school going, Bill?"

"Mmm, well, you know," Bill said vaguely.

Tom contained a grimace and nudged his foot against Bill's, knowing why his twin was being so avoidant. He disliked outright lying to their mother, but the fact was that his grades were in danger of getting him dropped from his scholarship. Tom still didn't comprehend on a gut level why schooling was important to Bill when they had so many other things to focus on, but he supported his twin on it because Bill _wanted_ it.

"As a matter of fact," Simone said, her tone sharpening. "I do. I heard from your guidance counselor this morning and she said something about your scholarship being revoked if you don't get your grades up...way up. Something about needing to ace your exams, all of them, in order to make the cut-off?"

"They called you!?" Bill exclaimed, slamming a hand on the table and creating an instant fault line through the grain of the wood.

"Bill," Simone snapped, tone warning.

Tom reached for his twin's hand, guiding it away from the fragile table. "We'll pay to have it fixed," he promised.

"That's not the issue," Simone said. She was still giving Bill a narrow look. "Do you have any idea how much money goes into a semester of college?"

"Hey," Bill protested. "I was living paycheck to paycheck until Tom found me; scraping by making rent and shoe money and very grateful for my scholarship..."

"It's also a very prestigious honor to be awarded a Gabriel Scholarship," Simone continued.

"I know that," Bill returned, not snappish but tightening his hand on Tom's.

Tom arched a brow, knowing that the tensile strength in Bill's hand right then would surely split the table out from beneath all of the lovely food. As soon as he regained his hand back from Bill, he planed on eating that food.

"How could you let it get to that point, Bill?" Simone questioned, leaning forward with her fork set aside, forgotten. "You've always gotten top marks, you've never had any trouble absorbing new material...it's how you got the scholarship in the first place."

"Mom," Bill said, tone protesting.

Tom caught the sidelong glance that Bill tossed his way; not quite pleading, but definitely irked. Bill was about two heartbeats away from jabbing his fork through the table.

"You must have left a _mountain_ of work to slide..." Simone continued.

"All of my grades were letter perfect before I met Tom," Bill interjected. "I don't think you want to pursue this line of inquiry, Mom. I think you of anyone can understand why my attendance might have slipped after Tom found me. It...reordered my priorities for a while, out of necessity."

Simone clasped her hands in front of her. "Yes, I understand, but--" she cut herself off with a sigh. "Only try not to forget the whole world, that's all I'm saying."

"Tom is my whole world," Bill corrected.

Tom peered between mother and twin, sure that each of them was fending capably for themselves but wondering if a forceful change of subject was necessary in any case.

"Try to keep a sense of balance," Simone re-phrased her admonition.

"Simone," Gordon said, touching her elbow. "Let's enjoy this wonderful food you've prepared before it goes cold, shall we?"

"Mm," Simone murmured, picking up her fork again.

Relieved, Tom resumed eating. There was a decent variety of meat and starches and non-vegetable casserole, which involved cheesy pasta, for which he was always ready.

Bill loosened his grip on Tom's hand, allowing him to repossess the limb.

"And what have you been up to lately, Tom?" Simone inquired.

Tom considered his answer for a moment, aware of Bill's intake of breath beside him. "Managing our affairs," he said at last.

"You came into an awful lot of money recently," Simone said, and though there wasn't anything suspicious about her tone or arrangement of facial features, she was definitely probing.

"I had a lot of lucrative contracts pay off," Tom replied, lying effortlessly. It wasn't even too far a stretching of the truth, he mused. "You don't want to know the gory details." That much was for certain.

"Enough to buy your own house," Simone observed. "When are we coming over for the housewarming?"

Tom stared at her, blank. It must be a human tradition; he looked to Bill.

"We're still settling in," Bill replied, picking up Tom's silence.

"Decorating? Nesting?" Simone said. She scooped some casserole from the edge of her plate with a piece of bread and popped it in her mouth, looking back and forth between them.

"I guess...?" Bill replied, gesturing with one manicured hand before reaching for his glass.

"So when can I expect some grandbabies?" Simone asked, with that same expectant expression.

Bill choked in the act of swallowing his beverage.

Tom set down his cutlery and frowned at their mother. "It's a hundred years too early," he declared, completely deadpan. He enjoyed the way most humans didn't seem to know whether he was joking or not – come to think of it, most of his Nephilim acquaintances hadn't been able to make the distinction, either. He was learning to play with that, not out of any preying sense as most Nephilim he knew would use it, but simply for fun, as Bill was teaching him.

Simone's eyes rounded. "A hundred years?" she repeated in a squeak. "But...but I'll _never_ see my grandbabies if you wait that long..."

Bill was still sputtering, setting his glass down and waving his hands in frantic yet obscure telegraphing motions.

"It's too soon," Tom said, picking up his fork and fiddling with it again, twirling it between his fingers. "It'll take me a while to get Bill into that fertile mindset, you know."

Now Bill aimed a nasty glare Tom-ward as he finished up his round of frenzied coughing. "You can't get me pregnant," he said, sure of it. "We're not that kind of demon."

"You sure about that?" Tom prompted, arching his brows.

Bill made a disgusted noise. "See what you've started," he accused their mother.

Simone laughed. "Sorry, sorry. But I want to be clear about my intentions – I want some grandbabies to pamper before I'm too old to appreciate the luxury."

"I think it's time for another subject change," Gordon said, diplomatic and dry-humored as Tom had come to appreciate him. "You've made your position known, and what a delicious roast. What's for dessert?"

Somehow the potential pitfalls of dinner conversation were navigated until they retired to the living room area with cups of coffee. Simone began to badger Bill about his classes again, saying he always succeeded so well at everything Bill retorted he'd applied himself very well to Tom, and the conversation degenerated from there. They found common ground discussing music, and Gordon entered the discussion with a lively introduction of opinions on some of the recent trends. At last, they stuck to one subject without strife or discord.

They stayed long enough for the cake Simone had picked up for dessert, making their departure not long after. Tom gathered his sleepy twin against his side and took him back to the car, tucking him into his side and buckling him in.

"I know the kind of wake-up call you need," Tom informed him, before shutting the passenger-side door.

"Oh?" Bill returned, making eyes at him once Tom slipped behind the wheel.

"Mm-hmm," Tom responded. He knew that Bill had a while to go before he could sleep – he had a pile of homework to finish.

"So sleepy," Bill responded, curling on his side facing Tom.

"You're never too sleepy for sex," Tom said, confident about it. No matter how early in the morning or late at night, Bill was always willing to roll over and let Tom do him.

"We'll see," Bill said, yawning.

Tom smirked but said nothing.

A satisfying interval later, after Tom carried his protesting but pliant twin out of the car and up through their house, tipped him onto the bed, and had his way with him – thoroughly, twice – they sprawled together in the den area while Bill pretended to finish his homework. Tom cycled through bland network programming, endlessly amused by human 'casts and recycled shows that taught him the veneer of human culture but not the reasons behind it.

Bill set aside his notepad computer and picked up his nail file instead, leaning until his back was against the edge of the couch on which Tom sat.

Tom set aside the wall display wand and picked up his mobile, scrolling through the list of potential bounties he could go after tomorrow. His newly-acquired resources paid a nice dividend, and now they had more than enough to feed them well in delivery and takeout, keep a nice roof over their head, and have Bill clothed in vintage couture to his heart's desire. Managing his 'business affairs,' however, did nothing to keep him in shape on a regular basis. Hunting demon bounties kept him in good physical condition and he craved the constant challenge to, if not _test_ his skills, exactly, then put them to good use.

Bill set down his nail file with an audible clack. It was made of some kind of reinforced titanium alloy and he picked it up at a very exclusive shop that catered to the well-groomed Nephilim of the city.

Tom could sense the wide, doleful eyes at the edge of his peripheral vision, beyond his mobile's screen.

"Tomi?" Bill prompted, prodding at Tom's naked leg with his bare toes.

At home, Tom felt perfectly entitled to go around in boxers and nothing else. Bill was wearing ratty track pants he must have had since he was thirteen and a shirt that rode up to expose a delicious amount of tummy skin. If Bill wasn't careful about flashing it, Tom might go after that belly soon.

He was probably going to go after it, anyhow.

"Yeah?" Tom replied, still dragging a finger down the side of his screen, glancing over and dismissing a handful of bounties that appeared to be more trouble than the money or challenge they would bring him.

"How do you feel about kids?" Bill asked.

Tom squinted reflectively over his mobile at his twin. "I...was one, once?" he ventured.

Bill rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean," he said, smacking Tom's shin. He set aside his manicure paraphernalia and swiveled around on the carpet on his butt to face Tom.

Tom made a face right back at him. "They're kids. Small, messy, smelly, noisy, unruly..."

"Do you want some?" Bill asked, direct about it.

"Of course," Tom replied, then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Some day, I guess. It's way too soon to think about it. We have plenty of fun to have, territory to secure..."

"We'll have to think about it some day. I mean, what are we going to do when House Kaulitz needs an heir?" Bill asked, hugging his knees. "It's not like I'm going to give you kids."

"You sure about that?" Tom inquired, waggling his eyebrows.

"Yes, I'm _sure_ ," Bill said, exasperated. He let go of his knees and sprawled back, patting his expanse of flat stomach as his t-shirt rode up again. "There's no room in there for babies. I don't have the right bits."

Tom tossed his mobile aside, tipping himself off the couch to join Bill on the floor of the den. "I like your bits," Tom murmured, holding Bill's shirt high up on his chest and kissing his exposed abdomen below his ribs. "What're you thinking about kids for? We're still the heirs to House Kaulitz."

" _You're_ the heir," Bill returned, his tone sharp.

"We're the heirs, you and I both," Tom replied. "I'm ruling with you beside me, an equal partner, or the House can rot. When our father is gone everyone will do as I say, anyhow, and I say you're as much the ruler as I am."

"Whatever," Bill said, dismissing the offer of ruling status of a Nephilim house with an airy wave. "But what will we do about kids?"

Tom crawled over Bill, propping his chin on Bill's breastbone, letting his weight rest over Bill's body. Their brown eyes met, unblinking and solemn. "Is this about what mom said?" Tom prompted, quiet.

"Maybe," Bill whispered. "Maybe I want to know for my own peace of mind."

Tom nodded. He hitched himself up, doing a pull-up until they were nose to nose and his arms bracketed either side of Bill's head. Their bodies rested together and the stirrings of Bill's excitement pressed against his groin. "We'll have a composite or two together, I guess," he promised, nuzzling at the corner of Bill's mouth before going up along one cheekbone, feather-light. "Nephilim don't have the technology to splice two gametes of the same sex together, so it's a good thing we've got access to the human world for that."

Bill remained still for a moment longer, his eyes fluttered shut. His chest rose and fell briefly. "You could--" he started.

"No, I couldn't," Tom denied at once.

Bill's generous mouth twitched. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I know you," Tom replied, leaning to plant another kiss on his twin's high cheekbone. "I know what you were going to say, and I know myself. Even assuming I could make myself perform with someone other than you – my mate – you would make the woman's life a living hell if I actually managed to get her pregnant."

Bill broke into a fierce, sharp grin. "I totally would," he admitted.

"No woman would sign up for that," Tom concluded. "And I don't want to. So let's close the door on that option, okay?"

Bill pursed his lips. "What if _I_..."

"Out of the question," Tom growled, nostrils flaring.

Bill looked intrigued. "You'd make her life hell if I tried it?"

"If she lived past having you," Tom said. He flexed his jaw. He was pretty sure he wasn't joking.

"I like it when you're possessive," Bill told him, putting his arms around Tom's neck and pushing his hips up. "Possess me here? We haven't done the living room, yet."

Tom pushed that thought away in favor of reaffirming his most direct connection with Bill. "Thought you didn't have time for anything but homework..."

"There's always time enough for love."


	9. Aggro

Alicia Carson walked into the cool atmosphere of the analyst lab, her head turning this way and that as she took in the thrum of active displays scattered all over the room. The slim line of an upright back faced her on the far side of the room, and one side of Alicia's mouth tugged upward as she regarded her foremost tactical analyst, statue-still in front of an array of holo-displays as usual. The young man was no more than a boy, barely out of school and, by all rights, should be in college. He chose to be here, staying with his position since Alicia had recruited him right out of high school – and he was a genius by at least two different measures. He preferred to put his talents to where he thought they were best used.

Heels clicking a warning as she moved over the hard flooring, Alicia crossed the space briskly to take up a place beside Arashi Loire at the furthest workstation. He had three different surfaces up and running with multiple displays on each. Alicia drew even with Arashi and leaned over the console beside him.

Arashi's profile was sharp and solemn, a clean blade of a nose, cool gray eyes rendered in flickers of incandescence thrown from the active display he was scanning. His eyes barely moved to acknowledge Alicia's presence, but a subtle tic in his jaw let her know he was aware of her presence.

"Have you eaten today?" Alicia wanted to know.

"I had a protein pack a few hours ago," Arashi murmured. "I'm trying to crunch this latest set of probability curves."

"You've looked at all of the data that we have on the Kaulitz twins?" Alica asked. She stood up and propped a hip against his workstation, glancing over the various displays that hovered over Arashi's illuminated face. "That's my top priority right now."

Arashi pushed his chair away from the surface of his station, resting his elbows on the rests and placing an open palm over a fist. "Yes, I went over everything twice since we received the Wynne report."

"And your preliminary assessment?"

Alicia waited for a moment as she watched Arashi's brow knit while he considered.

"Your father wants me to find a mentor for the twins," she began, compressing her lips when Arashi snorted. Their relationship was notoriously fraught with trouble. He was likely to think it was a bad idea simply because it had come from Loire.

"Not anyone in this city," Arashi replied. "They're powerful – too powerful, and Shemyahza is mated to Vaille. He wouldn't be able to approach a mated pair..."

"But I thought the opposite," Alicia interrupted, bemused. "Tom and Bill are mated; so, someone who's mated as well shouldn't be a threat, right?"

Arashi raised his pale golden-brown brows. "Have you _seen_ two mated Nephilim in the room before? Their foremost concern is protecting their mate, their perceived territory. There's a lot of posturing and bristling and not a whole lot gets accomplished. Really, though, it depends on the character of the Nephilim involved. Cal Pierce isn't a good fit, either."

Alicia shook her head. "And those we have available here in New York?"

"Completely unsuited," Arashi replied, tapping a finger over his display. Faces flashed by on a fast scroll, each attached with names and Orion file summaries. "We don't have anyone on tap who could approach Tom and Bill without getting brushed off, or coming across as an outright threat. Then they'd both clam up – maybe even do something rash if they felt cornered."

"All right...How does their being mates impact the scenarios we've run?" Alicia asked with a sigh.

"Everything goes from bad to worse," Arashi stated. He swiped a hand over his console, minimizing half his screens and bringing up two others. "We've got power signature readings, independently and with both of them. That, combined with the fact that they're mates, makes them about four times as dangerous as either would be by themselves."

Alicia leaned over again to inspect the data he was displaying. One of the screens was a profile of Tom Kaulitz, with a similar assessment side by side of Bill. The other screen was a long text entry; it looked like a piece of history or lore at a brief glance.

"How many half-Nephilim twins do you know of?" Arashi prompted, fitting his fingertips together.

"Well, Tom and Bill," Alicia said, and Arashi's intent gaze sparked her memory. They were situated on the other coast, but everyone knew about the Sparda twins. "And Dante and Vergil, the sons of Sparda."

"Nephilim twins are rare," Arashi said, adopting the pedantic tones of a lecturer. His brooding gaze flickered from the displays to Alicia and back again. "Not merely because of the low birth rate of the Nephilim, but because they have a bias themselves against twins. It's a cultural superstition, it's in their lore...simply put, twins are considered destructive, terrible luck upon whatever clan or House produces them."

"That's why these two were separated," Alicia realized, smacking a fist against her opposite open palm. "That's why Tom was raised out-Wall and Bill stayed here, with his mother."

Arashi nodded solemnly. "It would follow."

Alicia sighed, pushing herself upright. The twins were dangerous together, potentially volatile, impossible to pry apart...

Her mobile buzzed at her hip and Alicia unclipped it, checking the display. An unknown number flashed back at her, and she tapped a hand to Arashi's workstation.

"I have to take this privately," she told him, suspecting her caller's identity before she even answered. "Keep working. I want approaches that you think might work, once we figure out who gets the pleasure of dealing with them."

Arashi nodded and Alicia left him to it.

There was an unused work room adjoining Arashi's base of operations, but Alicia preferred to seek out the secured privacy of her office, which was a few doors down from the analyst lab. Alicia slipped into the empty corridor, answering her mobile as she did.

"This is Carson," she said.

"It's Rex," the voice on the other end of the line replied.

"Sir," Alicia said at once. "I thought it might be you. I've been running into some difficulties..."

Rex was a tall, handsome executive, sort of a freelance trouble-shooter for the upper echelon of Orion Corporation. For years, Alicia had suspected that it went a great deal further than that, but it was the sort of situation where discretion was required...and rewarded. The man had appeared before in tight circumstances to move whatever Alicia had needed to accomplish difficult tasks against overwhelming odds – resources, money, even an application of judicious advice. Every time he'd contacted her, when it hadn't been in person it had been through a blocked number, the same as the call she'd received that day.

"The Kaulitz situation," Rex said, once again displaying a remarkable knowledge of what was going on at such a level as hers. His job was to deal with problems at an overall organizational level, and Orion was large enough to span more than one continent – an extreme rarity in their post-catastrophic world. The fact that he seemed to hone in wherever a crisis had the potential to unleash devastating affects on the human side of the war...well, it didn't speak well for her current situation.

"Exactly," Alicia replied. She palmed open the door to her office and strode inside to seat herself at her own workstation. "I'm not sure how briefed you are on the current status, but we're engaged in preventive efforts at this stage..."

"I am aware," Rex's mellow voice assured her, unruffled. "At this point, you're searching for someone with Nephilim blood to approach them and frame some reasonable expectations."

"A good way to put it," Alicia allowed.

"Who would you approach for the task if you were given unlimited options?" Rex asked her shrewdly.

"One of the Sparda twins," Alicia replied without hesitation. The moment Arashi had jogged her memory on the sons of Sparda, it had seemed like the best of admittedly limited options. She held her mobile to her ear with one hand, drumming her short unpainted nails over the dulled oblong of her work console with the other. "Vergil or Danta Sparda. I think by this point, one of them is the only thing the Kaulitz twins would take seriously. Plus, they can relate with them on the twin level. Unfortunately, they're both on the West coast..."

"I can make Vergil Sparda available to you," Rex said.

Alicia closed her mouth after a few seconds of shocked contemplation. The strings that Rex could pull shouldn't continue to surprise her, given what she'd seen over the course of her limited interactions with him, and yet he continued to come through on things that she'd deemed impossible.

"All right," Alicia said slowly. She picked up a stylus from a nearby brushed-steel container and began to twiddle it between the fingers of her free hand. "That would be...optimum, but in the three to four months when he gets here after making his incredibly dangerous cross-country journey, if there's anything left of New York I suppose I could send him to look for the twins? They'd be the ones somewhere near the top of the smoking heap, I presume."

Rex's sublime chuckle rumbled in her ear. If Alicia weren't immune to the niceties of interpersonal relationships, she supposed she'd find it incredibly engaging.

"Clear your afternoon," Rex ordered. "You'll need to brief Vergil when he arrives in New York."

Alicia inhaled sharply. Rex thought this was important enough to merit the use of their incredibly rare, staggeringly expensive transport mechanisms? Those were classified at such a deep level, the general public had no idea that they existed. Most Orion operations staff had no idea that transporters were a reality.

"We need those Kaulitz twins on our side, and if we can accomplish that this early in the game, we'll do what it takes," Rex said as though reading her thoughts. "I see this as a justified expenditure."

Alicia began to nod automatically before saying aloud, "Acknowledged."

Come to think of it, her professional assessment ran along the same course.

* * *

Tom stroked up Bill's naked side until his twin writhed and purred against the sheets, stretching and displaying evidence of movement once more. "Time to get up," Tom said, grinning as Bill flopped around and gave him a baleful glare from beneath jagged black shards of bang.

"I've been up," Bill pointed out. "And up...we've been up for at least an hour." He assumed a more coy expression, arraying himself against the spill of white sheets as though he wanted to go again.

"Sex doesn't count," Tom told him. He let his hand linger over Bill's starred hip for a moment before dipping to place a kiss on Bill's shoulder. "That's so we can both get to our respective occupations and feel somewhat fulfilled throughout the day. Until the afternoon coitus...you know, when I pick you up, take you home, and despoil you thoroughly."

"Mm," Bill responded, writhing in the sheets and sitting up. "Do we have to go?"

Tom smirked over at him. "You already know my opinion on it," he said, trailing a finger from Bill's collarbone down his nude front. He collected sweat with his fingertip until he reached Bill's stomach, still covered with pearly globs of come, and brought it to his lips.

Bill pushed at his thigh. "Yeah, you want me to quit school," he said, sounding surly about it.

Tom's eyes snapped open. "That's up to you," he said, laying himself down beside Bill within reach, but not touching his twin. "If it's important to you, you know I'll support you."

"Mmm, thank you, Tomi," Bill purred, flopping down beside him and stroking his hand up Tom's side, pausing with a thumb below Tom's nipple. He teased at that for a moment and they nudged their noses together, breathing into one another's open mouths before closing together in a brief, thorough kiss.

Before Tom could pursue the kiss too much further, reaching down to grab Bill's ass, his twin writhed out of his grip like a slippery seal and put a teasing finger over Tom's wet lips.

"I _am_ going to school," Bill said, that determined look replacing his sexy bedroom eyes and letting Tom know there would be no further despoiling that morning.

Tom nodded, wetting his lips with his tongue anyhow as he watched Bill play his own hand up his side before stretching and getting up again. 

"I want to get another tattoo, one about us," Bill said, as though it had been part of an ongoing conversation.

"You could get the House insignia," Tom suggested.

Bill wrinkled his nose. "That's not about us. No, I want something intimate. Something for just you and me."

Tom tipped his head to one side. "Whatever you like," he said. "So long as you don't expect me to get one of those."

Bill's dark brows rose. "You don't like them?"

"They're like claim marks," Tom tried to explain. "I'm too high-ranking for anything but a House insignia, and even that is unnecessary for an heir." He shrugged.

"All right, so no tattoo for Tom," Bill decided. "But you're all right if I get them?"

Tom grinned at him. "It's your body," he said. He left it unspoken that he could pretend it was _Tom's_ claim marks all over Bill.

Bill rumbled and draped himself over Tom's lap. "No, yours too..."

"All right," Tom acknowledged. He rubbed Bill's ass, and considered himself to have great restraint that he didn't swipe a finger right down into the cleft to initiate another session. "Come on, we've got to get moving if you're serious about getting to school this morning."

"Yes," Bill pronounced decisively, but toppled forward into his arms.

Tom had to carry Bill bodily to the bathroom to get him moving, but everything progressed from there until they were spooning breakfast into their mouths, climbing into the car, and Tom was clinching with his twin before giving him up to his daily regimen of education.

In a way, he was weirdly proud of his twin for choosing to stick with something he'd chosen to do, regardless of how it ran contrary to Tom's expectations for them.

He checked his mobile while his car was still idling at the curb. Tom sighed. Chakuza had put a message through to him calling for a meeting. He'd been hoping to make some kind of brief out-Wall trip to kill a few things, some of the lesser creatures that scavenged around the barren territory immediately surrounding the city Wall, but Chakuza never made frivolous demands on his time.

Tom set his course for the club that served as his current base of operations.

The nightclub was shuttered to all outward appearances as Tom drove his sleek vehicle past it and turned into the lot. The back offices were open, though, and a few staff tending to before-hours tasks were here and there. Today, Chakuza waited for him in Tom's inner office, sprawled out on the big leather couch that abutted one wall.

"Talk to me," Tom said, entering the room and giving his surroundings a quick appraisal. The first thing he did upon entering any space, whether his or not, new or often-visited, was check for indications of danger. Chakuza possessed inherent threat levels but there was nothing else about the office to raise any alarms. Dealing with anyone of Nephilim blood, there was an expectation of betrayal for which Tom was prepared. There were different levels of likelihood for that, though, and Tom knew Chakuza's potential for turning on him was low – unless someone made a better offer over what Tom was paying him.

"There are people asking about you," Chakuza said.

Tom cocked his head to one side. "Are we on a repeater loop?" he inquired. "You've already told me that. And Orion has contacted us personally, twice."

Chakuza shifted on the couch and shrugged. He hadn't gotten to his feet, and Tom wasn't going to make him.

Folding his arms, Tom crossed the well-appointed office space to seat himself on the edge of the old-fashioned, luxurious wooden desk. With wood in such short supply, this more than anything was an example of the wealth that Bushido had possessed before Tom had taken it all for himself.

"These are new," Chakuza replied. "No one's seen them before – none of my people, none of those we've asked. They're persistent, they're good...and they don't know the city very well."

"Orion?" Tom prompted, expecting Chakuza to say yes. It wouldn't be unheard-of for the far-reaching corporation to bring in someone from out of the city to accomplish a job.

What their job was with him, though...that, he was very invested in discovering.

"I don't think so," Chakuza said. "These are different. Even some of Orion's crazier operatives aren't like this...I think they're out-Wall Nephilim blood, boss. It's what all my instincts are telling me."

Tom nodded, folding his arms. His father would have been searching for him not too long after he left, and of course he'd know right where to look, despite the trail Tom had led to Chicago for his first stop. He'd tried to leave it there, but of course Jorg would have only the best sent out searching for Tom.

And, after all, defeat would be punished with the ultimate price.

"Someone's been blocking them," Tom said, thinking out loud. For it to have taken this long for Jorg to find him had to mean there had been someone hindering his efforts. It had been months since Tom had found Bill, after all; and well over a year since he'd left House Kaulitz.

"Boss?" Chakuza said.

Tom shook his head, frowning as he stared into the middle distance. At last, Jorg Kaulitz was catching up.

"You think maybe you want to tell me what you've been keeping from me, boss?" Chakuza prompted. "If I'm going to be taking a hit for you, I ought to know what's going on. Could better help you that way, maybe."

Tom cut his gaze to Chakuza. The man was frowning, looking more than his typical share of perturbed. Tom recalled then that Chakuza had been Bushido's head of security detail, and apparently, hadn't been fully briefed over what Bushido had planned for that particular day.

Bill had been captured; Tom had found Bill. That had been the end of Bushido.

"It's my father," Tom said, resting his fists on the desk to either side of him. He lowered his face, contemplating threads of the intricately woven carpet for a moment before raising his eyes to meet Chakuza's. "He's full Nephilim, and he's been trying to find me."

"Ah," Chakuza said, beginning to nod. "Ahh, that makes sense, boss."

"What?" Tom questioned sharply.

"Well, it was Orion scoping for you first, you know?" Chakuza said. "They must have been blocking any more subtle attempts to find you--"

"Or Bill," Tom interrupted. "It's me that my father is tracking, but it will be Bill who is his ultimate target."

Chakuza's eyes burned. "Can't see that going over well with you, boss."

Tom shook his head. "His next move would be to come here in person, once his people have located us."

Striking hard and fast, merciless as any cold-blooded creature; Tom knew his father's methods. He'd been raised in his House. Jorg would come to find them.

He wasn't sure that he and Bill were ready to handle that.


	10. daphne descends

The Vanderbrant campus was the greenest, most scenic part of the city ring where Bill lived with Tom. As Bill walked from his final class of the day past the lush strips of grass that bordered every walk on the campus, he admired the landscaped trees and beds of flowers that were giving way to the onset of winter. The bare branches thrust up against the shimmer of the Wall above, its fluctuating energy field that served as a veil between city and sky. Even in those leaf-stripped branches, there was a stark beauty to the cycle of life that led to this short time of death. It came every year, but cycled back to renewal. Bill paused beside a small park area, pulling out his mobile to tap down a few words to jog his memory later – a fragment of a song, because he never shied away from dealing with dark topics.

Winter wasn't Bill's favorite time of year, but he could appreciate the aesthetics as well as any other season.

In winter, people wore stylish coats, at least, and Bill took great pleasure in pulling his out of the closet and dusting it off. He'd always thought of clothes as an adornment, less for functionality and more to put his personality on immediate display. This opinion had been bolstered by his relative immunity to the extremes of heat and cold. He didn't _need_ to wear a coat in winter, but he liked to.

Bill sought out the block of campus where Tom usually picked him up. They only had the one car, and it hadn't been an issue so far. He enjoyed having Tom drive him everywhere, the way that he enjoyed it when his twin did most anything for him. Now that they had money, though, Bill was thinking it might be a good idea for him to finally go about getting his license to drive and acquiring a car of his own.

First, though, Bill had plenty of things to study for and none were his driver exam.

He toyed with his mobile as he waited; texting Andi, letting Georg and Gustav know that band practice might be delayed by a bit. _No shit,_ Gustav's dry message returned to him, and Bill huffed and texted back at once, _we are sometimes on time!_ Gustav's response to that was _not even before Tom._

Bill stowed his phone on account of its traitorism, bringing him an unwanted message, and he perched on a low concrete wall that surrounded a dark bed of what would be flowers in springtime. It wasn't long before he lifted his head to the familiar tune of the engine of Tom's sleek silvery car. They did have band practice later, staying in form for a gig that weekend as well as constantly messing around with new tunes. And Bill knew they would be late for it, because he and Tom could never resist the urge to grab every chance.

When Tom climbed out of his car after parking it, striding out and around the vehicle before Bill could even reach the curb, there was tension in every line of his body.

"We have a decision to make," Tom murmured, sliding his strong hands over Bill's shoulders and cupping his neck.

Bill grinned over at him. "Whether to fuck now, or fuck later?" he murmured, his voice dipping into a husky register as he placed his hands over Tom's chest, smoothing over the firm muscles beneath his shirt.

Tom's eyes lit with the kind of look Bill had never seen from any other lover. "The answer is both, isn't it?"

"Usually," Bill replied, ducking his head to peer over at Tom from beneath his bangs. In the newness of their union, he and Tom had made use of just about every bathroom or storage closet within a one-mile radius whenever Tom came to campus to pick him up. Bill had them all mapped out in his head; in some cases, rated in order of preference.

Small wonder that Andreas had refused to drive them anywhere, back then.

Tom shook his head slightly, leaning forward and inhaling as though to partake of Bill's scent. "It's not something nearly so pleasant as that choice," he said at last, clasping the base of Bill's neck and rubbing a thumb there.

"What is it, what's wrong?" Bill asked at once, casting his mind over anything the two of them had been dealing with that could bedevil them now. "Orion?"

Tom shook his head. "I think Orion's been the stop-gap," he said, a deep furrow appearing between his brows.

"Explain," Bill ordered, pulling free of Tom's comforting grasp to stand on his own two feet. He'd never had any problems with Orion, growing up. They'd done some tests on him, taken his oath that he meant no harm to the city or the human world so long as he was within New York's borders. Bill had stretched his pledge on occasion, but in his defense, _he'd_ never meant harm. He had always responded to the attacks of others. He figured that was why no one from Orion or the City Defense Corps had ever come for him before now.

When Bill had been about thirteen, someone from Orion had come trying to recruit him. There was a war going on; everyone knew it. It was the humans against the demons, and so far although humanity had held out valiantly for over fifty years, the demons were still winning. They still controlled the air, the seas, and large stretches of land between the walled enclaves that had become the only safe haven for humanity's last scattered population.

Bill wasn't interested in the war. He'd wanted Tom; had yearned for him with his entire being, although he hadn't known what he was missing at the time. Beyond that, he'd found a safe space in music, and he was unsuited for going out and fighting, no matter how accidentally powerful he was. His talents lay in other areas, and Simone had supported his position fully.

No one had argued or tried to press the point then, and the Orion recruiter had gone away, reluctant but leaving Bill to it.

Now Orion was back in his life again.

Tom shook his head, stepping close to Bill again. "I'm pretty sure it's our father." He reached for Bill as though to pull him to his chest.

Bill stepped back out of reach, his mind whirling. "Are you...you're sure about this?" he said, mind going numb. Their father. The man who'd taken him from Tom. The man who would want him _dead_ , rather than together with Tom.

"It fits..." Tom began, and trailed off, gazing over Bill's shoulder. His face went paler than Bill had ever seen it and his mouth fell slack. He bristled, seizing Bill and spinning him, half-shoving him behind his body.

Bill whirled, clutching at Tom's shirt as he tried to get his bearings on the situation. There was a broad-shouldered, Nephilim-tall man further up the sidewalk. He moved like a fighter, all gathered muscle and the promise of imminent violence. His face was fine-boned and aristocratic, and the hair that was swept up off his face in a hawkish crest was bone white.

Despite never having seen the man before in his life, Bill knew exactly who this was.

"Vergil Sparda," he whispered.

The man – or half-Nephilim, rather – was legendary on more than one count. When Bill had learned history as a boy, he'd tended to absorb those items that were most relevant to him. Vergil was one of those rare half-Nephilim who fought for the human resistance.

He was a twin, which Bill had noted even as a boy, before he'd known about Tom. When Bill had realized what Tom was to him, the tale of Dante and Vergil had come to mind. Those twin brothers had been separated for a long time, too. Twice the length of Bill's lifetime.

The other item worthy of note had been Vergil's explosive rescue on the West coast. The fortress of a high-ranking Nephilim near the former site of Los Angeles had been completely gutted when Dante had sprung his brother from his long imprisonment.

"What are you doing here?" Tom growled, his arm barring Bill behind him.

Vergil had his hands by his sides, open palm, and his silvery eyes were fixed on Bill and his twin with such intensity Bill wouldn't have been surprised if something on either himself or Tom burst into flame. Unskilled as Bill was, he could sense the raw power of Vergil approaching them.

He wasn't frightened, though. He was with Tom.

Bill tugged at Tom's shirt, pushing Tom's outstretched arm down and taking his hand. "He's here to talk to us," he spoke up, certain of it.

Vergil's mouth turned up in a faint smile. "Right on the first try," he said, raising his hands to hold them out in a gesture implying no harm. "If I was here for a fight, I'd have brought back-up."

Bill appraised Tom, whose jaw was straining, his nostrils flared as though scenting the air.

"An hour of your time," Vergil said. He raised pale brows, his impassive expression turning faintly skeptical. "Unless you've got something to hide?"

Tom uttered a low noise the likes of which Bill had never heard before; if he weren't Tom's twin, his mate, the hairs on his neck might have risen.

"An hour," Tom ground out.

Vergil nodded before casting a pointed glance at their surroundings. "Not here, though."

Bill watched, fascinated, as a muscle flexed in Tom's jaw before he fixed his attention on Vergil again. The half-blood appeared calm, even amused.

"All right," Tom said. "I have a place. You'll take a cab, though."

Vergil shrugged.

As Bill walked with Tom to the car, it occurred to him that Orion must think he and Tom were very, _very_ important.

* * *

Vergil was on high alert as he got out of the cab and approached the low concrete building to which the Kaulitz twins had led him.

He was also experiencing an emotion which his twin brother Dante would label as cranky, but Dante had a penchant for the flippant that Vergil had never shared. Vergil preferred to view it as irked. Yanked from his comfortable apartment, his very cells scrambled and sent on a cross-continent trip, given a short brief on what Orion deemed a current potential threat, then catching sight of the twins _together_...irked barely began to cover it. Orion exacted a lot from him for the rescue they had assisted Dante to enact years ago.

After being briefed by an analyst, Vergil had sought out a likely meeting point. Bill was tagged by Orion's files as the potentially more biddable twin, but the moment Vergil laid eyes on the boy he'd known it would be difficult.

Bill had the beauty and height of a Nephilim, most certainly, and carried himself with the arrogance of a young man accustomed to getting his way, to being catered to for those advantages.

Vergil had been in the middle of formulating an approach when the other Kaulitz arrived, and all his tentative plans had gone straight to hell.

The Kaulitz twins weren't like Vergil and his twin Dante at all.

Tom's sporty silver car had pulled up around the corner of the building, whose awning and shuttered windows had the appearance of a nightclub, the kind that catered to people who wanted to sit and drink rather than dance and grind. It was a throwback to vids from the previous century, red carpet laid out over concrete and a scalloped green awning, frosted glass windows and black faux marble facing. As Vergil turned the corner, the twins were side by side at a door, waiting.

They weren't touching, but possessiveness radiated off every line of Tom's body, from the way he shifted position when Bill made the smallest movement to the deadly serious look in his eyes.

There was also something else, a tell-tale charge, a certain alignment between their bodies, an intermingling of their already so-similar individual scents that pointed to something Vergil could discern for himself. He didn't need Orion's file to tell him this.

"You _are_ mated," Vergil said, widening his eyes at the Kaulitzes – twins, but not as he knew it. He'd never have thought it possible if he hadn't caught their scent at last. At campus, they'd been upwind, and too far – Tom had kept him at a distance, and understandably so.

Vergil had lived amongst the Nephilim for long enough to know there was no trusting anyone, perhaps not even blood.

"I thought they were joking about that," he continued, approaching with his hands loose by his sides as before. Tom had all of the predatory instincts that Vergil recognized from his thirty-some years of captivity in Lucien's tender care.

Bill leaned against his brother, who still held himself tense as he gave Vergil watchful eyes. "We are," he said, but there was a hint of uncertainty as he looked at Vergil. "It's not how you are with your brother, is it? I mean...we're the only Nephilim twins we've known."

"There's a reason for it," Vergil replied, thinking darkly on how he, too, probably would have been separated from his twin if he'd been raised in the Nephilim world. In a way, that was why he'd been captured to begin with – get him away from Dante, because the two of them together had been causing so much carnage.

"And no," Vergil continued, "you're nothing like Dante and me. We had sex, yeah, but that's just natural curiosity, you know?"

Tom pulled a smirk.

"You two are mated; the charge – the aura..." Vergil's hands made gestures that could never possibly encompass all the subtleties. Words were inadequate as well. There was an intimacy between the Kaulitzes that was only present with mated pairs.

"I told you," Tom said, turning as though to nose Bill's hair, his voice carrying an undercurrent of anger. "You doubted it?"

"I only worried it was because we're twins, because we didn't grow up together..."

"That might have contributed, but doesn't make us any less mated," Tom told him. He moved to slide an arm around Bill's lithe waist but Bill stepped out of his reach.

"Kaulitzes," Vergil rumbled. "Are we going to do this in the parking lot?" He was amused. Despite their minor spat, these twins were in perfect harmony with one another. He and Dante had always fought, always tussled; they were always arguing even when they were mostly in accord.

He was still on alert for the prospect of stepping into territory where the twins held sway. The Kaulitzes' energies complemented one another perfectly. Vergil could have taken on Bill by himself. By one such as he, Bill could have been easily subdued. Tom was another matter – he could tell Tom had been trained to fight in the way he moved, and how closed-off he was, continuing to view Vergil as a potential threat even though he'd made every indication that he came in peace.

By himself, Vergil was reluctant to admit, he'd be hard-pressed to overtake Tom. With Bill feeding into Tom's energies, one on one right now Tom would be unbeatable if it came down to a fight with Vergil.

It made Vergil wish he had Dante at his back – but as he'd told the twins when he first approached them, that was what he'd have done if he was coming to take them out.

"Tom," Bill said, sounding all reproachful and silken. He took his twin's hand. "We're being poor hosts."

"For an uninvited guest," Tom said, his brow knotted in a scowl. He was handsome, even gorgeous – as beautiful as his twin beside him, in very different ways.

"I don't want to be here any more than you do," Vergil replied. "I'm here as a favor to Orion, nothing more."

Both twins went very still at that pronouncement.

"Why are you here?" Tom asked bluntly.

"Let's go inside," Bill said on the heels of that question, leaning into his twin at last and appearing to try and steer him for the club's back entrance. "Inside, come on. You can get a drink, you need it."

Without further comment, Tom put his arm around Bill and walked with him to the door, casting another distrustful look over his shoulder at Vergil.

Vergil kept his face perfectly blank. It was easy to see who topped from the bottom in this relationship.

There were people moving around in the building, most in uniforms, a few wearing dark suits with sunglasses perched on their forehead. Vergil judged most of the uniforms to be unwitting staff, and the men in suits were thugs. He could see at a glance why Orion was concerned; Tom, a Nephilim raised out-Wall, was involving himself in the workings of inner city crime. It was a short step from here to claiming territory of his own, possibly to rival his father.

Possibly at his father's direction.

They didn't have enough data, but that wasn't the only reason Vergil was here. He had a rather personal experience to impart to the twins.

Tom led them to an inner office and held the door open for Vergil, shutting and locking it behind them.

Vergil's expression remained fixed, impassive, even though his instincts were screaming at him that the situation could go badly in such short order, the only thing left would be for Dante to avenge his death on his mate's behalf. Vergil's Nik was completely human, though he possessed certain extraordinary abilities.

The room was standard upscale office fare, and the muffled quality of what little sound came at him from the surrounding walls let him know there was very good soundproofing in place. He glanced at the couch, where Bill had flung himself – it was off limits, not only because Bill was there but because the twins had clearly had sex on it, given the scent that rose off the furniture. There was a heavy wooden desk backed with paintings, either wall displays or genuine pieces of art hanging on the walls. Across from the desk stood two chairs and Vergil could risk one of those, but he'd wait on Tom to sit before taking his cue.

"Why—" Tom started again, as Vergil turned after giving a cursory examination to his surroundings.

"Drinks," Bill interrupted, tapping his fingers along the arm of the couch.

Tom shook his head, shaggy dreadlocks tumbling around his shoulders as he moved for the far wall and a bar, setting out glasses, pulling chilled bottles from a low fridge. He put his back to Vergil and Vergil kept his eyes on him, wondering whether the boy was over-confident or simply trusted his twin to give him enough warning in case of attack.

As Tom turned with drinks in hand and a challenging glint in his dark brown eyes, Vergil decided it had to be a bit of both. They were both young, after all. He remembered being that age, thinking he still had something to prove.

"I'm here to provide you with a little perspective," Vergil told them, accepting the drink he'd been given – scotch on the rocks, nothing he'd asked for but he didn't have a habit of turning down free liquor. As Tom moved over to his twin, seating himself close enough that a single unsheathed blade could fit between them, maybe two, Vergil took himself to one of the chairs, pulling it out to face them.

"One that you're uniquely qualified to provide?" Tom questioned, his voice biting.

"Quite so," Vergil said, regarding him with a cool stare.

Bill twined a leg around his brother's, plucking the glass right from his hand and taking a sip.

It was fascinating to Vergil to see a pair so close. The same action, performed between he and Dante, would have caused snarls and punches to be thrown, culminating in the shattering of the glass so neither of them could drink from it. Then again, neither of them would have hooked a foot around the other's calf to begin with. He and Dante had viewed the sexual component of their relationship more as exploration, creative masturbation and always, always an aspect of their struggle to compete in every respect. Here, the twins before him had a kind of symbiosis in the way they leaned in to one another; Tom's hand curved to cup Bill's elbow, while Bill had what amounted to a leg-lock on Tom's calf.

That they were intimate was beyond obvious. That they were _fucking_ \- well, that screamed loud and clear, too.

"Impart your wisdom," Bill invited, more than a share of Tom's sarcasm threaded through his voice.

Vergil snorted and set his drink aside. "You think you can afford to be flippant?" He was bringing his full complement of seriousness to bear as he looked over Bill, who broke eye contact and passed his drink over to Tom, and Tom, whose eyes bored back into his without flinching. "I'll tell you why I'm indebted to Orion. They secured my release from a thirty-year captivity. I was taken from my twin, enslaved into the house of a high-ranking Nephilim – I think you know his name – and I was his toy, to do whatever he liked for decades with no expectation I'd ever be freed."

It was Tom who blanched, rather than Bill as Vergil had expected. So the young man had given some thought to what would happen if Bill were taken from him.

"I was Lucien's meat for thirty years," Vergil said casually, and now they both shifted in their entangled position on the couch, identical looks of discomfort crossing their pretty faces. "I was collared with a magical device that would blow my head off if I tried to escape. I did what I could to survive."

"I'll never let Bill be taken from me," Tom said, all defiance.

Vergil gave him a grim parody of a smile. "You think it's going to matter, when the time comes?"

Tom began to bristle and Bill placed a hand on his thigh, calming him. "What do you want?" Bill spoke sharply, his warm brown eyes gone hard and focused as Tom's. He'd never been raised out-Wall, but he had an efficient bullshit-cutting way about him, unlike the human tendencies to dance around a subject.

"I'm here to convince you it's in your best interests to work with Orion," Vergil said frankly. "Given the reception you can expect from the other side. I was taken from my twin's side because we caused too much damage--"

"Bill and I aren't in that world," Tom interrupted, his hand tightening over Bill's. "Our only kills were self-defense..."

Bill made a scalded noise and Tom rolled his eyes.

"Oh, they know," Vergil answered that unspoken exchange. "The fact they haven't tried to do anything about it is more because they've taken a wait-and-see approach rather than condoning your kills. Sloppy work, boys."

Bill's head jerked around and he gave Vergil a seething glare, but said nothing.

Vergil gave him a small, elegant shrug. He had permission from Rex to speak a little more freely than most people would get; he could touch on far more information than someone without any Orion clearance would receive.

"You've killed the bad guys," Vergil continued that line of thought. "People who tried to hurt you. People who tried to separate you. Demons, not human. It ought to get you thinking about what side you ought to choose, because there will come a time you've chosen, whether you realize it or not."

“I don't care which side burns,” Tom said frankly. His hand tightened on his twin's. “Not so long as I get to dance on the ashes with Bill when the firestorm settles.”

Vergil turned to Bill, possibly the more reasonable twin, certainly more of a known quantity. He'd been raised by humans, lived with them all his life. “Not even for your mother's sake?” Vergil prodded, thinking of his own mother. She'd died to keep him and Dante safe – from _demons._ Vergil had no love for the pureblood spawn of his own kind.

“Come on, be realistic,” Bill scoffed. “Our mother will be dead long before any kind of final confrontation comes around. So if you're trying to use that to sell me on Orion's defense of humanity, it's not a strong enough argument.”

“All right,” Vergil allowed, placing his hands flat on his legs. “How about, Orion will divert all their resources to ending you while you're still young and potentially vulnerable if they see you as becoming a threat to humanity some day?”

Tom stood, dragging Bill to his feet with his grip on his twin's hand. His eyes were black and cold as a bottomless pit. “We're done here,” he stated. “You get a pass here, today, because of who you are. But no one even hints of threatening Bill while I'm around.”

“Oh, little one, that was not the threat,” Vergil said, shoving back from his chair and standing.

Every muscle in Tom's body went rigid and if not for Bill's clinging hands, he might have gone toe to toe with Vergil right there.

Vergil held himself poised even as he clenched his back teeth. So long as Tom had Bill's power to draw on, supporting him, they were an even match – perhaps the balance was even tipped in Tom's favor. Vergil had decades more experience, but Tom had the youthful fire; not to mention, home turf and the mate to protect for his advantages.

Tom's teeth bared and Vergil kept his hands clearly in view, raising them outspread in a cautionary gesture.

"No," Bill said, low and urgent. "We are _not_ doing this here."

"Then when; _when_?" Tom spat. "He _threatened..._ "

"Let him finish," Bill insisted. He clasped at Tom's arm as though to draw him back down to the couch. "He's not threatening us, he's right. It's a warning."

Vergil rose his brows, but otherwise made no move, either to sit or provoke Tom. He sized up his opponent, considering the ways he could attack; fall into a defensive pattern, or strike fast and hard enough to cause Tom to fall back. Tom would be the type to attack head-on, he was sure, and then...

Tom's brows were gathered dark as he glared at Vergil. "We said we'd hear you out," he said at last, pressing a hand back against Bill's nearest hip.

Vergil gave him a slow nod. He waited for the twins' cues; Bill tugged Tom back down to the couch and Vergil sank into his chair once more.

“It was more by way of a friendly prophecy,” Vergil continued. “Me, I like you, Tom; and you, Bill – probably because you do _not_ remind me of myself and Dante. No one amongst the Nephilim has really taken notice of you yet; neither of you has really built up a reputation, you haven't seized major Nephilim territory. But Orion takes a rather long view and they can see your potential.”

Tom's lips curved in a humorless smile. “We'll be unstoppable.”

“You'll be hard to deal with,” Vergil acknowledged. “Better to deal with you now when negotiation is still...affordable. Leverage with House Kaulitz, for example.”

Both Tom and Bill stiffened.

"There's been some question as to whether you're working _for_ your father, or against him," Vergil stated.

"That's absurd," Tom snapped, slashing a hand to one side in a quick, vehement gesture. "He _took_ me from Bill; he separated us and kept us apart for years. I owe him nothing anymore. I'll kill..."

Vergil smiled, very slightly.

Tom glared back at him, reaching over for Bill, who took his hand without hesitation.

"Your own father?" Vergil questioned. They'd already made their decision in one respect, he was sure. He decided it was time to unveil one of the tidbits he'd been given license to reveal. "He's closing in."

"I know," Tom said, his jaw hardening.

"Orion has deflected the attempts of Jorg to find you, or pinpoint your precise location," Vergil continued, both amused and irritated that Tom had already made the connection. "Or did you think it was coincidence that you'd had no contact after all this time?"

Tom's hands clenched into fists, the muscles in his forearms jumping. "You thought I was still working for him."

"Orion didn't know, is the point," Vergil corrected.

"I'm not," Tom stated, his dark eyes flat and angry. "He kept me from Bill for most of our lives. And if he's behind those attempts on Bill's life..."

"Ah, yes," Vergil murmured. "All those kills were self-defense, weren't they?" His mouth curved in a thin smile as he transferred his attention to Bill. The young man was sitting stiffly upright, one arm held taut against the front of his skinny chest, his head turned away from Vergil. He leaned in as though to nuzzle Tom's dreadlocks. There would be no answers forthcoming from Bill.

"We're not interested in what Orion has to offer," Tom said. "We're not allied with our father. We'll swear by whatever measure Orion wants..."

"Unfortunately, for you it's not that simple," Vergil said, getting to his feet. There was also the matter of their territory grab, which couldn't be overlooked.

Both twins went rigid, staring up at him a moment. Bill uncurled from the couch and got to his feet, Tom up and standing shoulder to shoulder with him in the next instant.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with us," Bill said, gracious and diplomatic as though they'd asked Vergil to join them for drinks and not been ambushed, essentially, with his presence unasked for. He nudged Tom in a small, nearly unobtrusive gesture that might have been missed by anyone but Vergil, who had been expecting it.

He gave them a sharp grin. "It's been intriguing," he said, and meant it. At least Orion had paid him for the cross-country trip, so he had no serious complaints besides having been taken from his Nik's side. Orion would want him to stick around for at least a day, possibly make another attempt given how expensive the use of the transporter ran.

"Any advice for us that doesn't involve signing up for the war?" Bill inquired, with a charming grin.

Vergil snorted. "You're already in it. It's a matter of considering whose side you're on. There _is_ no neutral territory."

He didn't bother to offer his hand. Either Kaulitz would bristle at that. "I know my way out."

* * *

Tom hooked his fingers into Bill's belt-loops and hauled him back down to the couch with him when Bill tensed as though he'd take a step after the silvery-haired Nephilim.

"Hey," Bill protested, his mouth twitching in a disgruntled expression.

"See something you like?" Tom challenged, jerking his chin.

Bill gave him an expressive eyeroll in response. "I'm interested in him for the answers that he can provide; not in any sexual sense, you jackass."

"And you're an idiot! Inviting a dangerous Nephilim-blood right into my base of operations..."

"If you weren't running a crime ring we might not have gotten all of this attention!" Bill exclaimed, smacking at Tom's arm.

Tom glowered, catching Bill's wrist and attempting to pull his twin into his arms. Bill fought him for a moment, giving Tom ineffectual smacks to his face and shoulders, before snarling and straddling his lap. He smashed his lips to Tom's, biting and nipping. Tom's arms went around Bill, one arm groping around his waist, a hand going to his ass to secure Bill against him and make sure he wasn't going anywhere.

"He's trying to find us," Tom murmured against Bill's mouth in between heavy, biting kisses. "Our father."

Bill buried his hands in Tom's dreadlocks and made a low noise. "He can go to hell," he replied, grinding down against Tom until they were pressed together, groin to groin.

"Nnn...and Orion can shove it," Tom groaned, tilting his head back to give Bill access as Bill nuzzled his way along his jaw.

"I hate this, I hate that they're trying to blackmail us into working for them," Bill said, sitting back on Tom's thighs and yoking his arms loosely around his neck so that they were eye to eye.

Tom groaned again, trying to lift his hips up as a hint as to his intentions. He was ready to reassert their union in the most direct way - not talk things out. That could come later. "Not like you have time," he said.

"That's what makes me mad!" Bill exclaimed. "It's hard enough trying to keep up a Gabriel Scholarship while you and I are keeping up our relationship, and we've got the band going..."

"Well, we're not giving in to their blackmail," Tom replied, tightening his hands on Bill. "And I'm not making any decisions about territory when I feel as though my hands are tied."

"So we'll put them off," Bill said, rocking forward further into his lap again. He bit his lip and gave Tom a promising smile. "I am way too busy right now to help them save the world."

"You can help me with something," Tom said suggestively, raising his brows.

Bill laughed and reached between them to undo crucial parts of their clothing. "I'm always up for that."

Tom was too busy engaging his mouth in more pleasant pursuits to reply with a smart remark.


	11. Ubers ende der Welt

Of all the decadent situations in which Bill had imagined himself, whiling away the time with his notepad and lyrics as he dreamed of more than what had been dealt to him, the prospect of drinking coffee while naked had never occurred.

"Mm..." Bill uncurled from his comfortable ball of limbs as the scent of coffee reached his nose, along with the steady footfalls that meant Tom was drawing near. He smiled; he wanted to pull the covers up, pretend he was still asleep, and make Tom work for it, but he was overcome with the notion of how good Tom was to him, now and over the course of the past day.

His possessive, beautiful, wonderful Tom.

Bill stretched in the bar of early morning light that fell across the bed, reveling in the prospect of naked coffee delivered straight to his hands.

"How did I get by without you?" Bill asked rhetorically, giving his twin an adoring look as Tom joined him on the bed and passed over the coffee.

Tom twitched his nose as he shook his head. "Better not to think on it," he returned. "I have to get going, Chakuza's got some leads for me." He leaned in, head inclining, eyes sliding halfway closed.

Bill lifted his face, keeping his coffee tucked to one side as he presented his mouth for Tom's kiss. "Nooo, I want more," he murmured against Tom's parted lips.

"Later," Tom promised. "Think Andreas will give you a ride to campus this morning?"

Bill blinked up at his twin slowly. "Well, yes," he said, his thought processes sluggish as his body begrudged being awake at this hour with too little sleep. He'd already woken early enough to Tom giving him a leisurely pumping, shaking off the languor of sleep enough to cooperate when Tom had lifted his legs and slid inside him, but that had been more dream than reality to him. "But do you have to leave so soon?" He'd been counting on a second round for when they were more wakeful.

Tom touched the side of his face, fingertips gently roving over Bill's cheekbone. "I need to keep you safe," he replied, dark eyes intent. "If anyone found you, took you from me..." He trailed off, looking away as his full mouth flattened.

"Okay, I get it," Bill grumbled. He set his coffee to the nightstand and drew his knees up, hugging them close. "I'll miss you." He'd especially miss the second round. Even coffee might not be enough, now.

Tom nodded, nosing in for another kiss.

Bill closed his eyes and gave himself up to it, parting his lips for Tom and hoping to lure his tongue within; hopefully go another round as well. Before they were fully engaged, though, Tom drew back and placed a last, chaste kiss to his upper lip.

"I really have to go," he said, cupping Bill's jaw. "Fuck you raw later, okay?"

Bill gave him a wry twist of his lips. "We can have fun trying," he replied. If naked, willing Bill wasn't enough to lure Tom back into bed, it had to be some damned good leads. He reached for his coffee and caught sight of the clock; the displayed time made him groan.

"I know how much time you need to get ready, properly ready," Tom said in response to the groan. "I'll see you when I pick you up this afternoon."

Bill flicked his fingers at Tom before devoting his attention to his coffee again. He contemplated going back to bed, if only to laze about for another ten minutes.

"Hey," Tom said, half way to the door but wise to Bill's tricks.

Bill downed his coffee, mrrphed into his pillow as he set the mug on the nightstand, and rolled out of bed. "I'm up, I'm up."

Tom raised his brows but departed without further comment.

It took genuine force of will for Bill to drag himself from the sex-perfumed haven of their bed and make the long trip to the shower. Without a Tom to prop himself up, he had to lean against the slick tiles, but he managed. They weren't together every heartbeat of the day, but Bill missed his twin when Tom wasn't beside him.

By the time he emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of scented steam, vigorously toweling at his black-dyed hair,  
Bill had made uneasy truce with the need for continued movement. He stopped on the verge of his bedroom.

The move was still recent enough that half the time, Bill expected to wake up in his former loft apartment with its high, white walls and lack of much that resembled decor. He'd done his best to put up a few touches of class, but most of his earnings, as well as his monthly parental stipend, had gone into living expenses.

Now Bill was a fully fledged homeowner, and Tom had given him more or less free reign to do as he liked when putting their house into order.

The rooms of their bedroom were a vivid matte red, somewhere between crimson and carmine. Bill had used gold and black to accentuate. Most of the furniture was black. The bed was on its sturdy Nephilim-proof, reinforced core, the glint of metal at the head and footboard one of the few things that didn't quite match with the new color scheme. Bill had swathed the bed in black, the slip of decadent silk in which to twine themselves, and had indulged himself with a few pieces of art reproductions here and there.

An extensive walk-in closet took up one side of the bedroom. Bill finished toweling his hair and hung up the plush blue towel - he and Tom were both sensitive to the smell of mold. He walked naked through their expansive bedroom, pleased all over again with its dimensions, far cry from the tiny loft they'd inhabited not too long ago. His clothes took up a good two thirds of the closet, Tom's cap collection occupying a fair share of the remainder.

He stood before the open closet gnawing at his lip, part of him idly going over the litany of things yet to do before he got out the door as he appraised his wardrobe. He looked for his red "The Idol" t-shirt for a moment before recalling it was still in the wash, sweat-encrusted from the other night at the club. Bill rummaged through a few hanging on the rack before selecting a shirt he hadn't worn in quite some time; a flippant play on his Nephilim blood. He skimmed on his red-lettered "Satan is a Poser" shirt. It was tight, and even with jeans belted taut across his hips it would still bare his belly. It was the kind of outfit that would make Tom's eyes swirl dark with possessive lust, so Bill decided it was perfect.

He'd top it off with a leather jacket that was loose and big enough to zip over his midriff between classes, he decided. After donning a pair of chunky black boots, he headed for the nightstand, last known location of his mobile, to give Andreas a call. With any luck, his friend wouldn't have run off to campus for the day.

Bill snorted as he checked the clock. No living being should be stirring at this hour, he decided. Perhaps with the sole exception of City Defense Corps and people in service occupations who didn't mind the early hours.

A noise reached Bill's ears, a high-pitched, distressed shriek that reminded him of tearing metal. He paused mid-step, halfway across the bedroom. Bill's brow furrowed and he thought briefly of his neighbors - would one of them run a bandsaw in their garage this early in the morning?

Before Bill could take another step or think to run and snatch his mobile, a groaning, thundering noise roared around him and the entire side of his bedroom blew outward as though grabbed and torn by the claws of a monstrous, invisible beast. Bill tumbled back on his butt, not from fear or startlement but from the sheer force that had blown out his bedroom wall as though it were fragile as an eggshell. One moment, the red wall with its tasteful matted paintings was there, solid as the illusion of safety. The next, Bill faced a gaping wound in the side of his house.

He scrambled to his feet, a murderous rage swelling large within him as he beheld exposed concrete girders and the snap of severed electrical wiring. Bill started toward the gap in the wall, ready to defend his home and throw himself at whoever had assaulted his secure haven.

"Who-" Bill began to shout, cutting himself off the next instant as a tall man leapt to a graceful perch at the jagged line that demarcated the torn flooring from the air to which it was now exposed. The man was leonine, older but handsome, with silver-streaked hair and glittering eyes that shone an unnatural hue of amber.

Despite never having laid eyes on the man in his life, Bill knew him instantly. They had the same forehead, the same slightly up-tilted, feline eyes, the same general face shape. The man topped Bill's height by a few inches, and wore a long dun-colored duster.

"Jorg Kaulitz," Bill stated, nothing but poison spat across the space between him in those bare syllables.

"Bill," Jorg acknowledged with a nod of his leonine head. He didn't have Tom's dreadlocks, but his ruffled sandy golden hair gave the impression of a tousled lion's mane.

Bill clenched his fists. The towering impression of power swept over his skin, practically battering at his conscious mind, but he was given over to the anger over the desolation that had shaped most of his life. This man had taken him from Tom, and now he was within striking distance.

As Bill began to surge across the debris-littered bedroom, Jorg moved faster than Bill had seen anything move before in his life. The full blood Nephilim moved with such speed it was as though he vanished from the space where Bill had seen him and appeared directly before him.

A hand wrapped around Bill's throat and his body caught up with the hold on him; he jerked back, choking and reaching up to seize the fingers that had a lock on him. Bill snarled up at the bigger man, kicking out his legs for leverage. He was lifted from the floor, dangling from the grip that was locked around him secure as any prisoning metal.

Jorg's eyes, close range, were red within glinting amber, narrowed in a calculating look.

"What a shame," the urbane tenor reached Bill's ears in the smallest amount of time before the chop to the side of Bill's head landed.

Stunned, Bill sagged in his captor's grasp.

Flashes of sight and sound came to him through slitted eyelids as Bill fought with his own state of consciousness. He was plucked from the gaping side of his bedroom as they screamed off in the broad light of day, moving so fast it was as though they were flying. Buildings flickered past, colors and shapes going by too fast for Bill to process. He was slung over a broad shoulder like a helpless child, awkward as a sack of goods. They blasted through one secured ring of the city to the next; Bill attempted to struggle again, realizing at last what that distant shriek of metal had been. He was carried through a broken, smoking ring of metal too fast for human eyes to follow.

Bill began to kick, lodged somewhere between shock and fury as he was swept from the city faster than even Tom's car could speed through at full throttle on a long stretch of clear road. He hoped to manage throwing himself off Jorg's shoulder. At least then he could run, gain himself the space for a fighting chance.

He was hefted further onto Jorg's shoulder and a hand reached up, clasping a point on his neck.

Bill slumped again, his eyes fluttering.

 _Tom,_ he thought, and everything went gray and dim around the edges. He was barely conscious when they breached the nearest Gate on the way out of the city in a scintillating explosion that seared through his closed eyelids.

After a fever-dream of shattered metal and wind whipping past his face, Bill was slung unceremoniously onto a hard surface. He rolled, groaning in pain. His head throbbed worse than any hangover he'd ever endured, and a tender spot in his neck was twanging. Bill found himself on one elbow, staring out over a bleak landscape of broken, slumping concrete and twisted, rusted-out hulks of metal that might have once been cars.

"Where—" he began, but didn't need to finish shaping the words. He fell heavily from his elbow onto his back and stared up at the sky, which was a pure blue unlike any he'd seen outside of paint palettes. He was outside the Wall.

Bill heaved himself up with a shocky spasm, balling his fists as he prepared himself to confront an assault. He was confused on one point – from everything Tom had said of their father, warning him of how ruthless he was and what Bill could expect, he should be dead. Jorg had struck and proved his power not only in the partial destruction of Tom and Bill's home, but the incalculable expenditure of energy that would be required to assault and destroy one of the Gates that sealed the Wall and protected the city.

Not far from him, Jorg Kaulitz stood with his arms folded, regarding Bill with his unsettling gem-reflective amber eyes. It was Bill's first up close experience with true Nephilim color, and at last he understood how unsettling it could be, confronted with those vivid hues not found in nature.

Bill altered his question. "What do you want with me?"

"Some time," Jorg replied enigmatically. He began to pace, his eyes going up and down Bill in a look that crawled over Bill's skin like a physical touch.

Bill pushed himself up into a sitting position. He was on the hood of a car, he realized. He risked pulling his attention from Jorg for an instant to check over his shoulder. The city was so far away it seemed to shimmer, a mirage of what might have been. Jorg was going to kill him, the certainty simmered in the pit of his stomach. For whatever reason, he'd decided to keep Bill alive long enough to question, or for whatever nefarious, unfathomable purpose he might have.

"Why?" Bill shot back, deciding to keep his questions simple. He wrapped his arms around his knees, glowering over at the solid towering shape of the man – no, demon – who'd stolen him from the city.

Amber eyes stared directly into his. "I've made mistakes," Jorg said, his dark blond brows gathering as he regarded Bill with a preternatural calm. "Did I make a mistake in not killing you, so long ago? The easiest path would have been to crush your skull as you lay in the cradle, you know. I need the space and the time to determine whether it's too late to eliminate that mistake."

"Tom will kill you," Bill stated with absolute certainty.

Jorg surprised him with a bark of short, harsh laughter. "Tom would kill me for so much as laying eyes on you," he responded. "That's why I've taken you here for this chat, rather than attempting to speak with you in the city."

"So talk," Bill said, drawing himself up at his haughtiest. He had nothing left to lose, he might as well say what he wanted.

Jorg's brows rose. "Such spirit," he observed. "Such a waste. I regret that it has to be this way, Bill."

Bill recoiled as though he'd been physically struck. It confirmed his suspicions that Jorg had no intention whatsoever that he'd walk out of this confrontation alive. "It doesn't have to be any way! I don't want your damned House...I just want to be myself, keep making music, and do my own thing! You know I'm not lying. I have no desire to claim your House or any of your Nephilim interests."

"Ah, but you have an interest in Tom," Jorg said, his eyes searing as any laser.

Bill ground his jaw together. "I'll never give up my claim on Tom."

If he had to die for it, that was a truth he could never deny.

* * *

"...contact at the south end of the city," Chakuza said.

Tom's head snapped up; he was no longer listening to his second, who had provided him with a list of leads from the entities that had approached his operations over the past twenty-four hours. It had been giving him an edgy sense of being closed in on; he had the urge to push Chakuza aside, go pick Bill up at his class or even pluck him from Andreas's car, and make arrangements to leave the city with whatever assets he could muster. If this was no longer a safe space for them, he'd find a new one.

"I have to go," Tom interrupted the useless litany of information that would lead him nowhere, now. Either Jorg had netted the information he'd needed by sending his people into the city, or it had been a distraction from the real objective. He was already half jogging, half swaggering out of the room as Chakuza spoke up behind him.

"But, boss," Chakuza called out. "You just got here? Ah, hell..."

Tom waved a hand over his shoulder regardless of whether Chakuza could see it or not. He grabbed at his pants and sprinted out of his office, out of the building and tumbled into his car, risking tearing the hinges off as he jerked the door open in his haste.

Bill's fury, his terror, was spiking through Tom. He had barely gotten to the club to begin going over the leads Chakuza had collected, and Jorg had found his twin already. Not only that, but Bill was moving now. There was a vagueness that implied a loss of consciousness and he was speeding faster than Tom could push the pedal as he raced through the streets, attempting to win a battle that was already over.

As he turned his car into a skid and pulled onto the street where they'd made their home, Tom could see the gaping hole in the side of his house. He sped up to his driveway, screeching to a halt and barely taking note of the black SUV parked next to his space.

Knowing it was useless, Tom charged up the stairs anyhow, hurrying to his bedroom. _Their_ bedroom, only now, Bill was gone. He was hoping to find clues, however slight, that would help him track his twin. He'd know at once whether it had been some shadowy element – Bill had no enemies, no reason someone would want to kidnap him – or if it had been their father.

"Fuck," Tom said, reaching the door and standing at its open threshold as he took stock of the carnage. "Cursed blood and ruination." Someone was going to die.

The entire side of the bedroom wall had been ripped out, jagged hunks of rebar dangling, the room exposed to the light and air outside. He could see a portion of the fence that divided the property line below, and the house next door; in the distance, a line of buildings beyond their neighborhood was visible, and the shimmer of the Wall over the tops of the skyline. There was no sign of Bill, though there was a towel discarded on the floor.

Pacing the line of the ruined bedroom, a tall figure in a dusky blue trench coat turned, regarding him with calm appraisal. With the exception of the coat, Vergil Sparda appeared dressed down for battle.

"Cursed blood indeed," said Vergil. His hands were buried in his pockets and he cocked a silvery brow.

"My father," Tom said with a low growl, raising his face to scent the air. Jorg had been here; the trace was faint but unmistakable to him. He hadn't been in his father's presence for over a year, but it being a Nephilim, Tom could never forget.

"He's breached the Gate," Vergil said, drawing a mobile out of his pocket and holding it up, inspecting its display surface. "The South one. He was in and out before anyone could do anything about it. So much for the illusion of security."

Tom stood and breathed hard, considering his options. "But he must have expended a lot of power," he said, walking toward Vergil and peering over the edge. Heaps of siding and torn concrete littered the yard below.

"You won't be able to take him one on one, nevertheless," Vergil warned. "He's still full blood Nephilim. Dante and I went up against Lucien, both of us fighting together, and he tossed us around like a pair of sparring dummies."

Tom's eyes burned. His father had taken Bill; Tom had very little time. Each second ticked past like a wired countdown. So little time. Why hadn't he told Bill he loved him, before he had left that morning?

"Then I'll need help," he gritted. The words were like acid in his mouth, but he had no choice.

Vergil came closer, his uncanny red-within-silver eyes catching Tom's gaze. "I can help you," he said. "But you need to realize this is you, choosing sides."

Tom held his gaze with a frown. It was a monumental thing that Vergil was asking of him. Depending on the fallout of the upcoming confrontation, as well as what happened in the distant future, it wasn't simply himself for whom Tom was promising. His eyes were drawn almost as thought against his will to the gaping hole where his bedroom wall had been.

"It's not a small thing. Agreement means aligning the entirety of House Kaulitz with humanity," Tom said at last. "It would become a constant struggle for me and Bill, for the rest of our lives."

He looked back in time to see Vergil's thin-lipped mouth quirk. It wasn't an amused expression.

"Yes," Vergil said simply. "Assuming Jorg doesn't disown you as his heir."

Tom shrugged that off. He couldn't see his father simply abandoning all of the effort he'd invested into Tom's upbringing. It would be death or the graceless submission to the inevitable, and Tom refused to be controlled.

Jorg would have to either accept what he and Bill had become, or they'd all die.

Those precious seconds were slipping through his fingers even now. He hated making snap decisions, especially the more important the choice ranked in his estimation.

"For Bill," Tom said at last, shading his eyes with a hand as he gazed out toward the South Wall. He couldn't see the ruined Gate from here, but he knew it was out there.

Vergil inclined his head. "Let's go, then." He stepped forward as though to leap out of the side of the building itself.

Why not, Tom figured. Right now, any route that was the most direct was exactly what he needed. Including working for the very corporation on which he'd avoided making a decision up until now.

"We need to hurry," Tom said, a fatalistic resolve taking hold of him. He was in tune with Bill, so much it was a painful emotion he'd never known. "He's going to kill him."


	12. Sacred

Tom was ablaze with a helpless, rising fury, a sick fear that urged him forward, even as it seemed they were stalled in place by circumstance.

It had seemed folly to take two cars to the Gate when one would do, but neither of them was willing to drive the other. Their alpha male status asserted itself despite the inconvenience. Tom followed Vergil's black SUV, Orion issue no doubt, and they headed for the lock that would have cycled them through to the next ring of the city.

Walled-up New York had been restructured in defensive lines. Each layer of the city formed a ring, protected at both ends by a lock similar to the heavy-duty security of the Gate that protected the outer Wall of the city. The rings were intended to be independently defensible during attack.

They reached the lock fast enough, but it had been blown through in Jorg's haste to exit the city. The outermost part of the ring was a wide, high wall that extended over the tops of two-story buildings. Barbed wire and electrified fencing adorned the top. The lock, metallic plating that would have dilated open to allow for entry, lay in shambles, gaping open for anyone to pass through if not for the staff in riot gear swarming over the premises.

Vergil pulled his big black car up as close as the blockade would allow and showed one of the armored men some kind of identification.

Tom simmered behind the wheel, wanting to gun it but recognizing at this point it would be very ill-advised, no matter how his blood ran cold over Bill's predicament. His twin was in the hands of the enemy, and here he was waiting to be waved through the layers of security that rose up during an incident. He and Vergil would be doubly suspect due to their Nephilim blood if not for Orion's credentials.

It galled him. He would have needed Vergil's help to get out of the city no matter what. At the very least, he needed someone from Orion.

At last they were waved through and Tom tailed Vergil, staying close behind as they wove through and around stalled traffic.

They drove for the breached Gate, where the biggest swarm of Wall and City Defense Corps had amassed.

Tom abandoned his car beside a curb, heading after Vergil with long strides when the other man got out of his car and headed straight for the shattered Gate.

It was a destructive sight unlike any Tom had seen before, attesting to his own father's power. The smoldering Gate lay in blasted fragments, all of the shrapnel outside of the Wall, indicating it had exploded from inside the city and gone outward as Jorg made his escape. Tom stared it it, expressionless, as he held up his inconvenient pants, cinched his belt higher, and loped at Vergil's side while they approached the mob of people wearing heavy armor and carrying all kinds of weapons, a variety from swords to rifle stocks.

Vergil said nothing to Tom as they moved fast for the crowd. He was holding up his identification for anyone to see, but most fell back with awed murmurs as they caught sight of him.

"It's Sparda..."

"...one of the sons of Sparda is here?"

"...Vergil must be here to help us."

Tom kept his jaw clenched and his head down, sticking close to Vergil's side as they approached a tall, black-haired man closest to the shattered Gate. The end goal, he reminded himself. He was doing this because it was his only chance to save Bill.

"Vergil Sparda," the black-haired man greeted him as they drew near. "I hope you're here to help."

"You must be Cal Pierce, the city's defender," Vergil replied.

Pierce nodded tautly. "I can't get out there and take him," he said. "I've got to stay here and hold the broken Gate while Orion's R&D sends over a team to repair it. I was waiting on Shemyahza..."

"He's not coming," Vergil said. "You've got Tom and me."

Pierce's dark brown eyes flickered back and forth between them. He was a handsome man, strong lean face, cleft chin, normal to all appearances, but at close range, Tom could see the crimson of his pupils. "Is this an approved op?" he said after a second of hesitation.

"I don't have time for this!" Tom burst out, starting forward. Vergil's strong arm barred his path. "That's my mate he's got out there, he's going to _kill_ him--"

Pierce's eyes widened and a tic pulsed in his jaw. "Well," he said in response to that, "my orders are to keep anything from coming _in_. They didn't say anything about people wanting to _leave_ the South Gate."

"Let's go," Vergil said, tapping Tom's shoulder. He pointed to a pair of nearby hydro-bikes. "We're commandeering those. I'll take it up with Orion's requisition later."

Pierce shrugged.

Tom looked, agonized, to the gaping-open ruin of the Gate. His instincts urged him to run while he could, bolting through the open portal to head in a straight line for Bill.

"Come on!" Vergil barked, his voice commanding. "The bikes will be faster. You know how to ride?"

Tom inclined his head, snatching a helmet up from the seat of the nearest bike as he reached Vergil. He jammed it on not out of any consideration for his head and the prospect of breaking it open on some junk-strewn, cracked concrete highway, but to pinion his dreadlocks back as they whipped through the space between the Gate and wherever his father had taken Bill.

 _Bill_. His chest thudded with a sickly throb as he considered what his twin was up against. Bill was in the enemy's hands – in their father's hands. Jorg could have killed him at the instant he'd struck the house, showing Tom exactly how helpless he was in this situation.

"How did he get here?" Tom called across to Vergil as they both started up their bikes. "I would have thought Orion's vaunted security would have kept him out of the City."

Vergil's unsettling silver eyes were thoughtful as he returned Tom's appraisal. He swung his leg over his chosen hydro-bike and revved it. "I expect the tactical divisions are analyzing that very information. It takes a great deal of power – as you know. But he broke _out_ of the Gate, not in."

"Slipping right past the city's screening protocols?" Tom asked dubiously. He'd gone through those screening protocols himself, more than once upon entering human cities, as he searched for Bill. They were invasive, and thorough. Tom was sure if he'd harbored any ill will, rather than been so intent on searching for his twin, they would never have let him in.

Vergil toed up his kickstand. "I can only presume there must be ways," he stated, silvery brows forming quizzical peaks. "Are you going to stand there and keep blaming Orion for your twin's theft, or lead me to him so that we can retrieve him?"

Tom scowled at him and kicked his bike into gear, releasing the throttle and peeling out. The bike screamed out of the square as Tom pushed it to the limit, speeding past a wide-eyed Cal Pierce and aiming for the narrow track of road that led into the abandoned labyrinth of twisted metal and long-empty buildings outside the city proper.

Bill was out there, and Tom was going to find him. Or avenge him.

The other bike drew even with Tom's, pacing him as they sped down the strip of concrete road, dodging rusted hulks that had once been cars, too old or useless to salvage for parts. The wind whipped across their faces, but Vergil was loud enough to call between them.

"Is he still alive?"

Tom snarled. He was infuriated at the very question; but then, the rage was gripping every part of him, and his brain had given a backseat to his instincts, all of them shrieking _Bill, Bill._ He realized then that Vergil might not know; Tom had no clue how deep Vergil's connection with his twin ran. Vergil and _his_ twin certainly weren't mates. Tom would know no matter where or when, if something were to happen to Bill.

"Yes," he spat, hunching over his bike and pushing it harder. The very fact that Bill wasn't dead yet was puzzling to Tom.

Did Jorg hope to torture Bill? Extract some kind of information from him, to discover what Tom had been doing since he'd departed House Kaulitz?

Worse yet...was Jorg saving the coup de grace for when Tom arrived, only to snatch any hope of saving him from his reach?

It chilled Tom, yet all he could do was throttle the bike to speeds that risked wiping out.

At the distant border of his mind where Bill's consciousness dwelt, confused and defensive and frightened, there was a surprised flicker. A last throb.

A ghostly impression of reaching fingers brushed over his face, caressing him in a touch more incorporeal than actual.

Tom screamed, ripping his helmet off and pitching it to the side, where it was lost instantly to the wind and debris-littered landscape. _Too late, useless, too slow._ Bill's consciousness ebbed from the desperate clutch of his mind; he yearned for it, but Bill had slipped free.

Gone.

"Bill!" Tom shouted, speeding around a curve and skidding hard enough to throw up a shower of sparks. They were so close, but the sense of Bill within him had disappeared.

The bike screeched hard and went down. Tom rolled over concrete, tumbled over and over as the bike kept sliding off with the high-pitched keen of distressed metal. He pushed himself up, already forcing himself into action again, a body in motion with one lethal purpose.

He would _kill_ the one who had caused that bright spark to disappear. His continued existence was meaningless. _Bill._ He'd expend every last iota of energy within him, summon up a final strike – even half-bloods could take out full Nephilim if he were to pour all of his destructive potential into Jorg at one go.

The other bike was closing in, and Tom turned to await Vergil's approach. Vergil had a hand out.

Their palms smacked together and the bike kept going. Forward momentum carried them as Tom swung astride behind Vergil. A dreadful energy was beginning to seethe and build up within Tom's core.

"We're too late?" Vergil questioned, the rumble of his voice reaching Tom through his broad back more than hearing the words.

Tom let the wind lash his dreadlocks and hunched against the pain. Inside him was a yawing ache, a gap, a _loss_ that was filling up with hate and molten power that would kill him, too, if it didn't have someplace to go.

"Not too late to make him pay," he gritted.

* * *

"You've lived a good life," Jorg observed, pacing before Bill at the front of the defunct car.

Huddled atop the hood of the car, Bill glanced around for anything he could use as a weapon. He had no doubt Jorg could kill him with his mind, or some unknown Nephilim bolt of power if it came to that, but if that was what Bill had coming, he was determined to go out fighting.

"Yes," Bill acknowledged. "And I'm not ready to die."

Each soft thump of Jorg's boots on the concrete strip of road made Bill's heart jolt an uneven response in his chest.

It was as though they were connected; as though his heart recognized that the thudding metronome that it produced was winding down to a limited number of beats. It was more prominent to him than ever; he could feel the throb of blood in his temples, the swoop of the pulse in his wrists. At any moment, Jorg could turn on him and decide it was time to end that.

"What was it like?" Jorg wondered aloud, his unsettling amber eyes preying on Bill's slightest shift of expression.

Bill struggled to keep a mask on, not wanting to show whatever it was Jorg was looking for.

"What was what like?" he snapped, unable to cozen or play up to the man even though it meant his life.

"Growing up without," Jorg stated, flourishing a hand.

Bill stared at him a moment with loathing rising up so thick he could choke on it. "Empty," he said at last. He considered diving off the side of the car and trying to make a run for it; tearing the door off its hinges, using it for a battering ram or shield; grabbing up the nearest scrap metal and trying to club Jorg with it.

"I never told Tom what he was missing," Jorg said, his tone reflective. "Yet somehow, he always knew."

" _I_ always knew," Bill said, glaring at the Nephilim hatefully. He could never think of the man as his father. "My mother never told me, either, but I always knew I was meant to be more. To be with Tom."

"And when you found each other...?" Jorg asked, eyes watchful.

Bill closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. He didn't want to give Jorg any part of those memories. The first thrill of the electric touch of skin to skin, the trembling kiss as they pressed together, all urgency. The shared heat and breath and the exultant sense of finally, something right – all of it was his alone, not for Jorg's prying inquiry.

"We're mated," he said at last, because he had to say something. "Tom and I were always meant to be."

Of all the people in the world, only Tom fit him just right.

Jorg's eyes widened. "Intriguing," he said. He shook his head. "I've never heard of such a thing. Cousins, yes. Siblings, sometimes. But twins..."

"Let me go," Bill said, angry but desperate enough to attempt to bargain. "I'll go straight back to the city, I'll make sure Tom doesn't pursue you. Leave us alone, and we won't have anything to do with the house."

Jorg's heavy boots came to an abrupt stop.

"Let you go?" he echoed softly. "Oh, no. Would I have torn you from the wrecked side of your house and spirited you all this way if I weren't already committed?"

Bill launched himself up from the hood of the car with a snarl, giving in to his instincts to fight. He wasn't going to die like this; he wasn't simply going to give up without a whimper, without a fight.

He moved without thinking, springing forward like a coil unleashed as he struck out, his fist swinging toward Jorg in a wide arc.

Jorg caught it and squeezed tightly, crushing Bill's hand in his so hard that Bill cried out, his knees sagging. In a flash, Jorg was twisting his fist around, causing Bill's body to follow the motion as he went to his knees, arm pinned behind his back.

Humiliated tears smarted at the corner of Bill's eyes. He kept struggling, trying to free himself until Jorg tightened his grip so hard that bones ground against one another.

"Not yet," Jorg breathed in his ear. "I've not gotten all my answers from you, younger son."

"You're going to kill me anyway," Bill choked, trying to kick out behind him. "Why should I give you the satisfaction?"

Jorg released him, shoving Bill forward until he was bowed against the gritty surface of the street.

"I want to know," Jorg said simply. "And I haven't decided yet."

A wild hope leapt up in Bill's chest, hammering his heart against his ribs. "You mean, you might not kill me?" His heart yearned out toward Tom – Tom, who was a fiery arrow headed straight for him. If Bill could stall Jorg a little longer...

Without answering the question, Jorg paced around him until he was looking down on Bill, broad arms folded over his chest. "Tell me," he said, "how is your mother?"

Bill frowned up at him. "Did you love her?"

Jorg's head cocked to the side. "Love is a human concept," he said, his face closing down in cold lines. "You think Tom _loves_ you, Bill? It's a biological imperative."

"Tom does love me," Bill stated with absolute certainty. "More than his own life."

Jorg gave him a thin-lipped smile. "We'll see."

"He does," Bill insisted, pushing himself up from the ground. Specks of rock and metal dug into his palms and he ignored them. They didn't hurt. Jorg's hold - _that_ had hurt. It gave him a sense of being powerless in a way he'd never been, before. Tom was right; Bill had needed training, a lot of training, to face this moment. It was training he'd put off, always later, later; now here they were.

Jorg shook his head as though to dismiss the subject. "Your mother?"

"She's fine," Bill said with a shrug, withholding the information that she'd remarried, soon enough after the departure that Bill had never been aware of any other father than Gordon. He figured he might as well try to ask questions of his own, to play this out. He wanted to gain time he wasn't sure he possessed. Tom was a raging fire at the far border of his mind, like the other time Bill had been taken. This was so much more dire. "What would you have done, if Tom and I weren't born as twins?"

"Likely would have stayed long enough for her to lose her attachment to you, and taken you back to House Kaulitz," Jorg replied. "She was too powerful, and yet too fragile to bring with me back to the House. There would have been constant challenges to her for a position by my side."

Bill gave a bitter laugh. "You don't know much about humans."

"You think she could have withstood it?" Jorg prompted, towering over him as Bill pushed himself up to stand once more.

"She never would have given up on us," Bill said softly. The only way Jorg had accomplished it, in Tom's case, had been the implicit threat to Bill's own life. Jorg had taken one son, at the cost of another.

Payment for services rendered.

Bill wanted to spit at his father's feet.

"Have you managed to infect Tom with your human taint?" Jorg wanted to know. "What has he been doing, since he found you in this city?"

Bill's hands clenched into fists. "You want to know if he's still fit to be your heir," he guessed. His stomach pooled with a queasy onset of fresh dread. That was why he was still alive.

Jorg quirked a familiar look at him, one Bill recognized from his own condescension to others.

Bill began to shake his head. "I don't have to tell you anything," he said, advancing on the demon.

Jorg held his ground. "You were raised human," he said. "I have no use for you. Tom can still be salvaged, he's young; if his attachment to you can be severed..." He trailed off with a frown.

"Tom is coming for me," Bill flared. "If this is some kind of sick test--" He struck out, recognizing imminent death in the uncompromising lines of Jorg's face.

He flailed forward into space, his fist going through where Jorg had been. Only an afterimage remained to Bill's eyes.

"He's going to be too late," Jorg said behind him. He had moved too fast, beyond Tom's speed or anything with which Bill could form a comparison.

Bill gasped, lashing out with a fist flung wide as he turned.

Jorg was out of reach, again moving so quickly Bill's eye couldn't follow the displacement. He punched forward, knuckles impacting Bill's chest high on the left side.

Bill reeled, stunned at the blow before he registered the pain. His heart was thudding madly. For an instant he thought it was the adrenaline until he stumbled back, clutching the place where he'd been struck. His heart was speeding out of control, pain radiating outward, and as he fumbled to recall the healings that Simone had taught to him, his legs gave out beneath him.

"What...you..." Bill choked, and began to gasp as a deadly weakness crept through his limbs, numbing and stealing his strength. His heart was pumping so fast within him it was a sick blur; he was unable to tell one beat from the next. Bill stiffened, reaching out for Tom with a last, desperate mental touch.

"Goodbye, my son," Jorg spoke above him, his face impassive as he watched Bill going into cardiac arrest.

Bill's heart faltered, made a valiant last throb, and ceased to beat as his eyes went wide and glassy.


	13. The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

The sun was spreading bloody hues over the jagged horizon as the bike skidded to a halt. Tom leaped off the back, uncurling his hands from the side bars before the bike had stopped. He had guided them to the place where he'd last felt Bill in his mind, that final, faltering throb. There was nothing left but rage within him – rage and searing power.

"Tom," Vergil said behind him.

"You can't stop me," Tom said, looking down at his hands. They were beginning to project a bluish-white energy that moved and wisped around his fingertips like smoke. He clenched his hands and shook. He was a walking time bomb of energy.

"Look, a final strike–"

"Will take him out!" Tom gritted, striding toward the upright figure of the Nephilim not far in the distance. "That's all you care about, right?"

He didn't bother to mask his approach. His father knew he was coming; Bill was dead. His presence had faded from Tom's mind.

Tom stalked past the crumbled foundation of what had once been a building as Vergil called behind him, "This is a bad idea."

"It's all I've got left," Tom said, pausing before he turned that last corner that would bring him face to face with his father. His parent, and nemesis.

Vergil was etched in a bright harsh spill of sunlight, the quality of light that Tom hadn't seen in months. It was so different outside the Wall.

For Tom, there was nothing out here but death, now.

The other half-blood was regarding him with an impassive expression, one hand twitching as though to lift it in a gesture. He meant Tom to stay, clearly, or at least be more cautious, but Tom had an answer for that.

"What would you do if he'd killed your twin?" Tom uttered.

Vergil's eyes closed.

In that blink of an eye, Tom was gone. He charged around the side of the building, drawing on the seething raw essence that fueled both power and his very existence.

The sight that met him as he rounded the corner stunned him into immobility for a critical instant.

Bill was lying in a heap on the cracked pavement, crumpled where he had fallen like some discarded puppet. His eyes were open, staring up at the sky.

The impact of it hit Tom then. Dead. _Dead._ Bill was dead, and everything they were, or could have been, had departed with him.

Above him stood Jorg Kaulitz, Tom's father – their father. His arm was still outstretched with what must have been the final blow.

With an angry scream, Tom launched himself forward to cross the last steps that would bridge the distance between where he stood, and the blazing end of his life.

Jorg looked up, his eyes meeting Tom's from across that space. His expression was curious first, a frown knitting his brow.

"He means that much to you," Jorg said, amazed. His words reached Tom even through the haze of his fury and the rising storm of energy that roared up from every cell of Tom's body as he called up the power he would pour into his final strike.

"More than my own life," Tom responded between clenched teeth. He slowed and took more measured steps as he approached. There was no time left. Jorg wouldn't be able to escape the blast radius when Tom unleashed his power. Tom's thoughts flicked briefly to Vergil, and whether he had dug in and attempted to shield himself or whether he had taken the bike and fled back toward the city, but he dismissed it as irrelevant to him now.

"Tom," Jorg said, his amber eyes locked on Tom's. There wasn't fear in his voice, but something like it, for the first time in Tom's living memory. "You're not coming back, are you."

Tom's laugh turned into a snarl. He supposed a few more seconds wouldn't matter; Jorg wasn't going to be able to stop the energy seeping from him, rolling off his body, rising out of his very substance. He couldn't look at the body between them, though, or he'd lose the last thread of his conscious control.

"I had _Bill,_ " Tom replied. "I had everything I needed in life. Now you've taken him from me, and ending you is _all_ I have left. Using up the rest of my own life is a small price to pay so long as I die knowing I've destroyed you."

Jorg's eyes reflected blank incomprehension. "That's what he said..." he muttered, as though to himself. "That you loved him more than your own life, those same words. Use it." 

The grief overtook everything as Tom looked down at the body of his twin again; his love, his other half. All their potential lay dead on the ground now, leaving nothing more than the ashes Tom's final burst of power, the shockwave of all his energy departing, would incinerate in his wake.

"Use it," Jorg repeated, holding up a palm in a gesture to stop him. Before Tom could laugh, he continued, "use it to bring _him_ back."

Tom's eyes widened and he brought all his concentration to bear on keeping his life's energies from slipping the leash, ghosting past him the way Bill had left, giving him a last phantom caress. "What?" he demanded.

"You can end me," Jorg said with the air of a patient instructor, which he'd never been. "Or you can bring him back. He's not gone yet, Tom – he's tied to this world, if not exactly this _plane_ , through his connection to you."

Tom staggered, going to one knee as the enormous cloud of energy he'd called up fluctuated around him, surging like waves fighting to crash against an unknown shore. How could he have failed to sense it? He was so caught up in his rage and grief... He cast out deliberately, honing his concentration to search not for the body that was so beloved, but the sense of _presence_.

Like a flame, hot and vital, Bill's consciousness surrounded him at once. It was so near that Tom knew it must have been hovering, waiting for Tom to notice or perhaps even trying to get his attention, but unused to the incorporeal enough to manage.

"You can have one or the other," Jorg told him in darkly amused tones. "But not both."

Tom cast a vicious glare in his father's direction and stumbled up from his half-prone position, making it the last few steps that separated him from Bill's body before dropping to his knees beside him. He was already re-focusing the power within him, ignoring Jorg with no thought spared for his own safety, or for the fact that all his defenses were down.

In that moment, Jorg could have struck him down and killed him, rendering him fallen beside Bill.

For Tom, that possibility did not exist. He cupped Bill's inert face in his hands, channeling all of the raw power he had called up to end his own life. He tapped into the power that made up the entirety of his self as he pressed his lips to Bill's, and poured each iota through slightly parted, already cooling lips directly into Bill's substance.

Nothing.

The flame-bright presence surrounding him enfolded him like fiery wings. It shot through Tom, lighting him up like a torch, making him aware for an agonized instance of every cell in his body, each vein and sinew, the network of nerves and neurons on fire and bringing him pain like he'd never known it. His mind acknowledged Bill's in a place beyond thought, greeting the presence with relief and welcome that had no words, only that one powerful emotion Tom had never known before his twin, his mate.

Love.

His energy streamed into Bill, and the cold lips warmed as a silent scream issued from Tom, power fusing with the consciousness filtered through Tom's essence to transfer the fiery presence like water filling a vessel.

A great, shuddering gasp tore through the lungs of the body beneath him.

Bill was coughing. He jerked, taking in a deep, hoarse breath as his arms came up from their previously slack position to cling to Tom.

Tom stroked his face with both thumbs, cupping Bill like newly-blown glass before he wrapped him up in his arms.

"Bill, my Bill," he crooned, rocking them back and forth.

Bill startled against his chest, pushing at him to gain enough distance so that they were eye to eye. He gazed at Tom with a wild, fierce expression. "Where is he? I'll kill him...I'll fucking _end_ him, he tried to kill me..."

"He did kill you," Tom said, attempting to hold Bill close, but Bill was squirming, trying to get a look around, and Tom loosened an arm enough so that they both could.

"Where is he?" Bill exclaimed, one hand balling up into a fist even as he crouched against Tom and kept his free arm locked around him, in turn.

"Gone," said a new voice beside them.

Tom looked up at Vergil, who stood nearby in his long silver trench coat, arms folded. His face was impassive.

"And you didn't do anything?" Bill exclaimed.

"He's stronger than me, faster, and a good deal more powerful than I am," Vergil replied candidly. "If I had _my_ twin here with me...but I don't."

"I have mine now," Tom murmured in wonder, turning to regard Bill. He brought up a hand to cradle Bill's face, marveling at the color returned to the previously ashen skin, and hugged the skinny beloved body against his own. Bill fitted himself against Tom, though a lingering tension remained in both of them.

"He said 'tell them to take care of each other,'" Vergil told them, delivering the recollection with a puzzled look. "And he said to tell you...he perceived no evil, and that he will see you again."

Tom's jaw hardened. "No," he said. "He _won't._ "

* * *

Tom expressed the desire to carry him the remaining miles home, but Bill put a stop to that right away.

"I'm not enfeebled, Tom; I'm not an invalid, and I have two functional legs," Bill declared, prancing out of range when Tom moved as though to scoop him up in his arms. He had done it often enough before that Bill recognized the opening gestures.

"You were _dead_ ," Tom said, as though that got Tom a free pass to take whatever measures he saw fit to ensure Bill would not return to that state.

"And now I'm alive," Bill asserted, sidling close enough to stroke a hand over his twin's arm.

"Don't ever do that to me again," Tom murmured, turning a stricken look on him.

The arguments Bill had been marshaling in favor of his continued mobility withered on his lips as he took in Tom's wounded expression. He faced off with Tom directly, pressing their foreheads together, biting his lip as Tom laced their fingers tightly together.

"Whatever we face, this life or the next...I want to face it together," Bill said. He could still recall that instant of terror as everything dimmed before his eyes, his life collapsing down to one last contracted memory. Tom had been his last thought.

There had been enough afterward, enough beyond the moment his neurons had stopped firing and his heart had ceased beating, that Bill knew there was something else. It wasn't life as he knew it, but there was an existence beyond.

"Yes, when we go, it'll be together," Tom agreed. His brown eyes were somber but fierce. Unexpectedly, he freed a hand and cuffed the side of Bill's head before pulling him roughly into his arms again. "Don't you ever do that to me again!"

"You," Bill squawked, outraged. "What about me? I was ripped from our home...our beautiful home..."

"All insured," Tom murmured into the pause.

"...kidnapped, hauled along while a Gate blew open all around me, threatened, _killed_..." Bill listed off those things, falling silent once Tom's eyes darkened again.

"I would have killed myself, killing him," Tom said.

"What happened?" Bill wondered. He had vague impressions of what had happened during that period he hadn't been alive, but it was indistinct and dreamlike, as though he wasn't intended to remember. Even then, there had been Tom. His twin's rage had drawn him. He had seen the moment where Tom could have died, only to see him turning his energy toward Bill's own cooling corpse.

"He told me how to save you," Tom replied with a frown.

Bill's brows raised. "That's very...un-Nephilim of him," he observed.

"Yes," Tom said, his utterance soft. "But...as I understand it...it is like a father."

"Don't mistake it for kindness," Vergil's voice said off to the side.

Bill looked up in surprise; he had practically forgotten the other man was there. In fact, it appeared he had gone away for a brief moment, because now he was leaning against a hydro-bike propped on its kickstand.

"You mean, he has some use for us yet?" Bill ventured.

Vergil shrugged. "Who can say?" he replied, enigmatic. "The essential fact is, he could have killed you both when Tom was vulnerable, and he chose not to."

Tom hummed a thoughtful note but offered no insight.

There was only one vehicle, and three of them to return to the city by nightfall, at which time the more nocturnal varieties of lesser demons prowled the countryside. With Tom's power spent and Bill exhausted from his ordeal, Vergil offered them the bike, which would transport two, and told them in no uncertain terms he would walk, being capable and possessing the strength and energy to withstand the hike.

Bill knew Tom might have argued, but when Bill pinched at his twin's arm as they shuffled back and forth, engaging in a mild scuffle that was half headlock and mostly hug, Bill noticed that Tom winced. He'd actually _felt_ that. The tremendous outpouring of energy had exhausted everything, even his reserves, and Tom was vulnerable right now in a way he'd never been.

"We'll take the bike," Bill stated.

Tom made a noise, but didn't formulate an actual protest.

Bill was loathe to get on the bike behind Tom – the bitch seat, he had it tagged in his head – but Tom knew the bike's controls and Bill had no clue. Tom got astride and Bill climbed behind him, grabbing Tom around the waist rather than making use of the side bars.

The wind ruffled their hair and whipped dreadlocks against Bill's face as they sped up the highway back toward the city. Keeping his cheek against Tom's back, Bill watched the sun sink toward the jagged horizon. They were outside the city, beyond the Wall.

For the first time, Bill saw a real sunset with his own eyes, neither 'cast nor canned video feed.

He smiled and hugged Tom until his brother made a grunt of discomfort. With a snicker, Bill realized that now with both of them drained, he was a bit stronger than Tom, until his twin recovered.

"It's beautiful," Bill called against the wind.

"Isn't it?" Tom shouted back. "I always wanted to take you out here some day."

"We'll come again," Bill murmured, certain of it. He enjoyed soft city life, there was no doubt about it. But there was a feral kind of beauty in the bleak ruins outside the Wall.

Of course, Bill probably thought so only because right now the empty highway wasn't swarming with lesser demons.

Tom guided the bike back to the Gate where the road ended. Bill gaped over his shoulder as he straightened up to get his first good look at the damage Jorg had caused. He'd so casually blown through one of the city's major defenses.

"Will they let us back in?" Bill demanded, shrill with upset. He pounded a hand against Tom's shoulder blade, anxious that after the whole ordeal they would find themselves shut out.

They were both demons, after all.

"They had better," Tom said over his shoulder, but he didn't sound as sure of himself as Bill was accustomed to hearing.

Despite having no I.D. and no Vergil, somehow the people holding the Gate seemed to be expecting them. A tall, black-haired man ushered them off to one side where emergency medical technicians were waiting, and what appeared to be a psychic hovering at a discreet distance, to Bill's cynical eye. He thought back to Kellan Raye's words, not so long ago. _Sanity check_ , and they had just been outside the Wall with a Nephilim who'd proven himself a threat to the city. Of course they were going to be checked out.

"I'm fine," Bill said irritably, trying to pry his arm free of the grasp of a technician cinching a cuff around his bicep.

"He died," Tom said in contradiction, waving the man to continue.

"You're power drained," Bill returned, and pointed at the other technician, a petite blond who looked terrified at the prospect of approaching Tom. "Don't worry, he couldn't take out a kitten right now, let alone you."

"At least the kitten has claws," the blond woman murmured, but she moved toward Tom with another vitals cuff destined for his arm.

"Well, well," a voice drawled. "Getting the city blown up now, I see."

Bill craned his head, annoyed, and locked eyes with Sinclair. Kellan Raye was hovering beyond his shoulder. "Isn't this very post-facto of Orion," he said dryly. "Thanks for bringing the cavalry after the battle is done."

"Maybe the whole thing could have been avoided," Sinclair returned, arching a brow. His dark-skinned, handsome face was unamused, despite the levity of his tone. "Who's to say? If you'd signed up to begin with..."

"We're here to see you to safe custody," Kellan said, stepping out from behind her partner with an annoyed twist of her full mouth.

"Wait...signed up with..." Bill latched onto that thought, his head whipping toward Tom. "Signed up with Orion? Explain."

Tom's solid brown eyes were adorned with a furrow, and he looked at Bill with something like exasperation, but probably because he was too exhausted to summon up a stronger emotion. "He was going to kill you," Tom said. "I had to make an alliance."

"As simple as that," Bill said. Exhaustion crashed down on him as he held Tom's eyes and it sank in how _tired_ he was, how bone-deep wounded and utterly spent they both were. Any tendency to argue was stricken from him by the look on Tom's face.

"Yes," Tom replied, simply.

Bill bowed his head and let the medic finish checking his vitals. The man was from Orion, and as such he was doing all the other little checks that Bill was used to as someone with Nephilim blood running through his veins.

"You're in good health," the tech said at last, removing the cuff. "Nothing unusual aside from the fact that your energies aren't at full capacity."

"Huh," Bill grunted, folding his arms. He looked from the tech to Kellan and Sinclair and rolled his eyes. "I just want to go home."

"The side of the house was torn out," Tom reminded him.

"We'll be taking you to a secure facility," Kellan assured him with a lift of her chin.

Bill stared at her, aghast. "But, I have school. And shows to play. And a _life_."

Kellan bared her teeth at him. "We'll have to learn to live with one another, for now."

Bill groaned, and turned his attention to Tom and his blond technician, who was reading her mobile display.

"Power drained," she proclaimed. "You've expended all of your psychic energy and you'll be feeling rather tired for a few days. Make sure to rest, drink plenty of fluids, and eat as much as your body demands."

"Power drained?" Tom repeated. "Does that mean we can have sex on normal furniture without breaking it?"

Bill snorted; he knew what was on his twin's mind. Reconnecting in as direct and physical a fashion as possible.

Possibly after about five hours of sleep or so.

"Um, I wouldn't be qualified to say," the blond technician demurred, her cheeks pinking. She unsnapped the vitals cuff and retreated.

"Hey, we need to know," Tom said, his eyes meeting Bill's as he turned. "If we're not at home, I don't want to be saddled with another outrageous bill for damages..."

"Orion's got it taken care of," Kellan spoke up smoothly, lifting a hand. "Shall we be on our way, then?"

"To the nearest bed," Tom said, putting an arm around Bill and guiding him up the sidewalk.

Kellan overtook them, her long-legged strides putting her in front of them easily as she headed for a sleek, unmarked black vehicle. Sinclair held the rear door for them.

Bill settled his head against Tom's shoulder after they had piled into the back of the car before it set off smoothly on course for the Orion facility that would take them in.

It wasn't exactly checking into a four-star hotel, but it would be safe and quiet and that was what they needed for now.


	14. Untouched

Bill stared up at his father's unyielding face, his heart a sick blur in his ribs. He was dying, and there was nothing he or Tom could do to stop it. Their world would fall apart.

With a gasp, he tore through the veil of sleep and found himself in bed sitting upright, his chest bare. Bill looked down his front, breathing hard. "Gods," he murmured, the mellow tenor of his own voice falling strangely on his ears. He passed a hand over his chest, pressing his palm against the place where his heart was pounding, rapid and vital within him.

A hand brushed over his side, reaching up to rest over Bill's hand.

Bill glanced down to where Tom laid beside him, half-covered by white sheet, also shirtless. His dreadlocks were loose around his face and shoulders and his eyes were alert, expression solemn. Bill's breath eased in and out.

After being ushered to a suite in the depths of an Orion safe building, one of their secure facilities that delved far under the earth, Bill had possessed enough energy to strip to his briefs and collapse into bed. He'd been vaguely aware of Tom crawling in beside him, securing an arm over his waist.

"I lost you," Tom said, his soft utterance breaching the quiet thrum of their harmonizing heartbeats.

"You never did," Bill replied, equally quiet. "I was still with you...after."

Tom's fingers twitched over his. "But not _here_ ," he insisted. "Not here with me, alive. That's twice now...twice I've promised to keep you safe, and twice I've failed. I can't--" His voice cracked and he bowed his head until dreadlocks obscured his expression from Bill.

Bill settled down into the sheets beside Tom, shifting their grip so that it was Tom's hand pressed directly over his heart. "No...you didn't, you saved me," he countered, holding Tom's fingers over the steady throb of his restored heartbeat. "Only you could have brought me back."

Tom's breath was ragged; he was at a greater loss of control than Bill had ever seen, even after the last time Bill had been taken from his side.

Clasping at Tom's neck, Bill pushed their faces together. He got a leg over Tom's hip, an arm around his side, and hugged him as he began to scatter soothing kisses over every bit of Tom he could reach. Temple, jaw, the high slant of one cheekbone...he got as far as that before Tom angled his face and kissed at his mouth, his lips and teeth catching Bill hard enough to dent or even bruise.

Tom made soft, eager noises as he cupped a hand at Bill's face and held him into the kiss, their lips working open against one another. They explored and licked, teasing at the entrance to one another's mouths before going any further. Each swipe of the tongue was lingered on; each little noise that traveled between them only spurred them onward. Bill whimpered and kissed Tom like he wanted to climb into him, wrap Tom's strong body around him, and fuse the two of them the way they had been united as one for that suspended, shining instant before Tom had breathed Bill quite literally back into his own body.

"Need you," the words traveled through the kiss, and Bill wasn't sure which of them had voiced it.

Tom pushed the sheet away from Bill's body, stroking his calloused fingers over Bill's unblemished front. He toyed with the nearest nipple, stroking and pressing at it until it hardened. All the while Tom continued to kiss him, nipping at Bill's lower lip for fuller access.

Bill was only too eager to grant it. He drew Tom's tongue into his mouth, sucking on it as Tom fed it between his lips. They both grunted softly and shifted, Tom rolling atop him, Bill keeping a leg locked over Tom. They were stripped down to boxers for Tom and briefs for Bill, skin pressed against bare skin, and yet it wasn't nearly enough. It was only the beginning.

"This is our beginning," Bill whispered, voicing that thought as a promise as Tom released his mouth from their very involved kiss, beginning to kiss and lick his way down Bill's throat.

Tom's reply wasn't verbal. He sank his teeth into the flesh at the join of neck and shoulder, releasing a shuddering groan and shoving his erection against Bill's thigh.

Bill cried out as the pain registered, but he'd take it gladly. It was a point of connection between them, and the sensation was another reminder of here and now; proof positive that he was alive. The blood and nerves sang through his flesh. His body was a symphony for Tom.

Tom kissed and licked at the bite mark he'd made in a mute apology before kissing his way to the hollow of Bill's throat. Bill cradled him against his body and stroked Tom's dreadlocks, sensing already that this first time would be fervent, quiet desperation and face to face lovemaking. Rough sex could follow later. This would be the two of them expressing their love in its most basic, essential form.

"Tom, Tom," Bill murmured, his nails stuttering over Tom's shoulder as Tom continued to press his lips to every part of him, traveling from collarbones to nipples, nuzzling his way from one to the other.

"I lost you," Tom whispered, laying his head on Bill's chest.

Bill looked down at his twin, his lover, stroking over his face and smoothing dreadlocks over his shoulders. "I'm still here," Bill replied, helpless to do anything but reassure. He couldn't turn back time and undo the mistakes he'd made.

He'd wanted to continue on his own path, doing only what he wanted, what he'd planned. Bill had more than himself to think about, now. His life was Tom's, too. There were changes he'd have to make to acknowledge that fact.

For now, though, the simple reassurance of touch was taking the forefront of his priorities. Bill whimpered and pushed his hips up against the pleasant weight of Tom's belly as Tom nudged to one side and parted his lips around one tiny, already tight nipple. His tongue flicked out against it, teasing the hard little bit of flesh.

"I'm here," Bill repeated, and his nails grated down the dip of Tom's spine. "Want you, so much."

Instead of answering, Tom licked his way to the other nipple, closing his lips around it and locking eyes with Bill. His dark eyes were both challenge and promise as he sucked at Bill's flesh, making him cry out and buck his hips up.

 _More,_ Bill wanted to demand, but Tom's eyes were telling him this encounter would be on his terms, and asking for more would only please Tom; he'd think Bill was begging. Bill encouraged, he ordered, he demanded, but he was of the firm opinion he didn't need to _beg_ Tom for anything.

Tom maintained eye contact as he released Bill's nipple, kissing a path down his body, mapping his way with lips and tongue, even the slight pinch of teeth to make sure Bill knew he was there. Knew he was _Tom's_.

There was a pause as Tom reached the halfway point; he urged Bill to bend his legs up and began to pull his boxer-briefs down over his hips, making Bill nod happy agreement and raise his ass high enough for Tom to liberate him of his underwear. Bill watched through his eyelashes, lazy heat prowling through him, as Tom knelt back and shed his boxers, tossing them to one side before bending over Bill's body once more, pressing him flat to the mattress with both hands on his hips as he licked and sucked the skin of Bill's belly.

After entirely too much attention was lavished on his navel, Bill began to squirm.

"Tom... _Tomi_ ," he uttered, needy demand infusing his voice. He reached down, intending to push Tom further on his path, and Tom grabbed his wrists, pinning them to his sides.

Bill glared down at him. _I'm in charge,_ that gesture was telling him with unequivocal force. He pushed his hips up, beginning to test his strength against Tom's resistance.

Raising an eyebrow, Tom prowled further down, trailing kisses down to the dark triangle of hair that led to Bill's groin.

"Oh," Bill released a single, breathy note. Tom's eyes were still on him, a challenge and a demand - _don't look away from me_ \- as he nosed along the hard length of Bill's cock. "Are you going to—"

He didn't get a chance to finish his question as Tom's lips opened and he took Bill in, sliding to the root, swallowing him whole. The burst of pleasure jolted through Bill's entire body.

"Tom, Tomi," Bill wailed, watching Tom suck his cock down in steady bobbing motions of his neck and head, letting him slip free only to enclose him once more, repeating the move with a swift grace that gave Bill the impression of sublimely pleasurable penetration.

Dreadlocks tumbled soft and springy all around Bill's groin and thighs. His grip on Tom shifted as Tom released his shackles on Bill's wrists, turning their hands until their fingers interlaced. They held hands and Bill watched Tom's eyes darken and dilate with pleasure as he rolled Bill's cock from mouth into his throat and back again.

"Ahh...ahh..." Wanton noises escaped him as Bill flexed his hips in tiny movements, watching his cock disappear into Tom's mouth. He began to make a more urgent keening, trying to pull away as desire rose up thick and fast, surprising him with his body's tells that forewarned imminent climax. His hands were trapped in Tom's grip and he didn't even really _want_ to pry his cock free of the heavenly warm suction of Tom's mouth.

Tom maintained eye contact, lips wrapped around him, and Bill gazed down intensely in return, unable to do anything but watch as Tom swallowed him until Bill tossed his head back. His whole body tensed with the overload of his climax.

Bill shouted, giving voice to the unbearable ecstasy that Tom had drawn up from him. His fingers clenched before opening, loosing Tom from his grasp, and Tom pulled away. As Bill lay back and lazed pliant in the warmth of his orgasm, Tom petted and stroked at his thighs before parting them.

"Mm," Bill sighed, letting his legs fall open under Tom's direction. He was still hard, sensitive after coming so recently, but Tom wasn't touching his cock now. He was good with continuing, and he wanted Tom to reach his pleasure as well. A surge of emotion caught Bill in an upswell of tangled desire and fierce possession, aching tenderness, and overall the need to be connected on every level they could manage. He'd spent himself so recently but he needed Tom _inside_ him, craved their joining in a place beyond mere desire.

Tom nuzzled in between his spread thighs, nudging his nose down below Bill's balls to lap at the sensitive flesh below.

Bill cried out, his whole body shuddering at the little jolts of pleasure that sensation gave him. He grabbed handfuls of sheet to anchor him to the bed as Tom continued, lavishing tongue and kisses on that strip of skin and lower. Tom kissed and licked down between Bill's cheeks, spreading him open with both hands and laying into him with tongue and enthusiasm.

More incoherent noises tumbled from Bill's lips, fervent and involuntary as Tom continued to suck and lick him clear beyond his climax. Bill didn't think he ever quite got soft; he moaned and tore into the bedding as Tom ate him out, and next he knew he was hard and panting and willingly lifting his legs as Tom positioned his own erect length at Bill's entrance.

They had joined together under all kinds of circumstances before; the two of them had done every kind of penetration from the mindlessness of mutual lust to thorough, slow lovemaking with so much eye contact and soft kisses that Bill had finally understood what tenderness meant. Now, as before, no words passed between them as Tom moved into Bill, joining their bodies and making them one.

Bill's eyes shone as he gazed up at his twin, riveted as much by the overwhelming emotion that expanded his chest as he was by the sensation of Tom's cock stretching him open in the best way.

"Bill - " The syllable escaped Tom, and on his lips it was an endearment and a benediction.

As Tom surged over him in the first of a series of slow, steady thrusts, Bill reached up to gather Tom to him as close as he could. His legs were angled up so high they were practically squashed against his own shoulders, but Bill ignored that, straining closer for Tom. The thickness of Tom's cock sliding in and out of his body in regular, gliding movements was amazing, but he knew they could be more.

He stretched up for a kiss.

Their mouths crashed together and they caught fire. With an urgent grunt, Tom rocked into him faster, making Bill loose an urgent moan into their joined mouths. Their bodies slapped together and with each noise, each lip-bitten kiss, they urged each other harder, faster, _more._

"Ahh," Tom cried, bracing himself over Bill one-handed and reaching down to grip the place where Bill's ass met his thigh. His dark eyes burned and he sped up their pace, holding Bill down and open, thrusting into him at a powerful new angle.

Bill's voice cracked as he gave a stuttering cry at the waves of pleasure that rushed him with each twist of Tom's hips. His cock was rubbing against Tom's belly and he looked down between their straining bodies, admiring the sight of his pre-come smearing all over Tom's golden skin.

"Don't stop," Bill said hoarsely. If it sounded more like a plea than a demand, by this point he didn't care. Tom was delivering precise strokes of pleasure down into his body and Bill trembled, trying to spread his thighs even wider. He'd already enjoyed his first climax; he could go for a long time just like this.

Tom simply nodded, the brush-strokes of his coiled dreadlocks caressing over Bill's skin. They had both begun to sweat, and their bodies slid damply against one another as Tom continued to rut into him.

Bill gasped with a burst of fresh pleasure as Tom sat up, breaking the hold Bill had on his neck. Without pulling out, Tom sat back on his heels and began to drag his dick in and out, giving him long, deep thrusts.

"Mmmn..." Bill moaned, reaching up to wipe sweat from his face as he laid there and took it happily enough. He watched Tom intensely again, feasting on the way Tom's dark eyes moved over his body; Tom made small noises as he rocked into Bill with those slow thrusts, and his eyes were fixated down in a way that let Bill know he was staring at the place they were joined as his engorged red flesh went in and out. Tom licked his lips and gave him a few harder, faster thrusts before settling back into his rhythm. It made Bill even hotter, knowing Tom was getting such pleasure _looking_ at the way they were coupled, and heat fanned through his face and collarbones.

Biting his lip, Bill reached for Tom with grasping hands. "More," he demanded.

Tom's eyes flicked up, but he didn't deviate from his slow, steady pace; he kept pumping Bill full of cock, reaching down to thumb the place where Bill's thigh met his ass.

"Tomi," Bill keened, beginning to squirm. He pawed restlessly at his own cock, its tip swelling reddish-purple.

Shaking his head a little, Tom blinked and lurched over him, connecting their bodies deeply and setting a hand on his knee. "What more do you want, Bill?"

Bill blinked back at him before breaking into an incredulous, sunny grin. "More sex," he began.

"I'm giving you more sex," Tom asserted, beginning to move his hips in slow, decisive revolutions that ground his cock heavily inside Bill.

"I want to be on top," Bill said.

Tom's eyes flickered. "We don't--" he began.

Bill rolled his eyes. He began to sit up, pushing at Tom as he did, taking his twin by surprise and rolling Tom onto his back. Settling astride his thighs, Bill reached behind to take hold of Tom's cock and sank down onto it, impaling himself. He eased his thighs together around Tom's hips and sat up. An involuntary cry quavered free as Tom's cock slid inside him, provoking sparks of sensation up his spine. Biting his lip, Bill squeezed his thighs and rolled his hips, grinding on Tom's cock and tugging a moan from both of them.

"Mm, more..." Bill sighed, snapping his pelvis forward in languorous but driving thrusts.

Tom smirked up at him before licking his lips, all trace of amusement disappearing as his brow knit in a frown of concentration. His hands moved continually over Bill, fingers tracing up his thighs and stroking over his hips; reaching up to tweak his nipples before running down his arms and lacing their fingers together.

Aglow with the visceral pleasure of their connection, Bill rode. He drove Tom's cock inside of him in pulsing waves of sensation that were cresting far sooner than he wanted. Bill ground himself down on Tom's cock, anxious noises escaping him as he sped up to meet his body's demands.

Tom wrapped a hand around Bill's cock, grunting as he pulled it to the same rapid pace. They moved like that for a moment, staring into one another's eyes, until Bill licked his lips. If he bent for a kiss, it would break their momentum.

A surprised cry wrenched free of Bill as Tom surged up from the bed, rolling him and switching their positions once more.

"Nng," Bill noised, not exactly protesting but vehement about it as he squirmed under Tom's pleasant weight, looking up into his eyes.

Tom dipped his head to bestow a heavy kiss on him, mouth dwelling on Bill's. Lips parting, they kissed and twined tongues eagerly as Tom eased over him, reaching a hand to spread Bill just the way he wanted.

Bill hooked his arms around Tom's neck and clung to him as Tom pushed his cock at Bill's entrance, sliding inside him again. Bill twitched, tightening down involuntarily at the sweet friction of Tom's cock making re-entry. He raised his face for kisses, and Tom didn't leave him wanting.

Tom kissed him hotly, tongue plunging into his mouth as he gave him a few rapid, frantic thrusts, enough to push Bill right to the edge. As Bill moaned and clamped down on him, Tom eased back into such sweet, rocking thrusts, one hand cupping his face, that Bill lost it completely. They moved together in the brilliance of their pleasure, trading kisses until they were spent.

"'S good," Bill gasped as Tom continued to move over and into him, slowing as they came down from their orgasm-induced high.

"So good," Tom replied, tumbling them onto their sides and cradling him close.

They remained silent for long moments, petting and bestowing light, almost curious touches as they gazed at one another. It was an affirmation of the love more emphatic than the words Bill enjoyed hearing. At last Bill sighed, wriggling around in the bedding he'd torn up, nestling closer to Tom.

"If we're here until the house is fixed, they're going to have to provide us with something more sturdy," Bill observed.

"Hmm," Tom replied, stretching his arms up over his head. One of them went quite naturally around Bill's shoulders.

Bill shifted, propping himself to get a look at his twin's face. Tom was aiming a reflective frown at the far wall, his eyes faraway.

"What is it?" Bill prompted. He draped a proprietary hand over Tom's belly.

"Something's wrong," Tom said distantly. His amber-brown eyes remained fixed on the far wall.

A squirm of unease went through Bill, but he brushed it off. "We're safe now," he insisted.

Tom made an impatient movement, his arm twitching where it lay across Bill's shoulders. "That whole encounter...it was wrong."

Bill's brow matched Tom's drawn expression in the next second. "What do you mean, wrong?" He _knew_ Tom was not talking about the sex.

"He could have killed you the moment he had you out of the city," Tom said. "Before I ever had a chance to save you."

Bill gave a brief headshake before turning toward his twin, gravitating like a flower toward light as he tucked himself against Tom's side. "He asked about you," he murmured. "He took me out of the city for...a chat, I guess you'd say. He didn't know we were mated. He kept me alive long enough to find out if...if I'd ruined you, or if you could still be his heir."

"It was more than that," Tom said thoughtfully. "Even after he knew that I was committed to you in exactly the way he never wanted, he had a chance to strike and kill me. My defenses were down the moment I was concentrating all of my power on you..."

"But, wouldn't the backlash of your energies have rebounded on him?" Bill questioned, wrinkling his nose. It was odd to think of Jorg as doing anything so uncharacteristic as granting mercy, even if they were his sons.

Tom let out a slow, tense breath. "He wasn't sparing our lives," he said at last. "It was an insult."

Bill pushed up from Tom's side, twisting to look him directly in the face. "You're joking."

"He was saying that we weren't worthy of being killed by him," Tom said slowly, seeming to puzzle it out as his brown eyes locked on Bill's. "He wasn't sparing us, Bill. He was letting us know that an expenditure of his energy to end us was _beneath_ him."

Bill's eyes darkened. "That's twisted," he pronounced.

"That's our father," Tom murmured, rueful.

"So what do we do about it?" Bill wanted to know.

Tom tugged him close again, winding his arm around Bill's shoulders and securing their bodies close together. "First, you learn to fight. Then, some day – possibly with Orion's resources behind us – we'll finish what he started."

Bill closed his eyes, leaning into Tom. In a way, the hard decisions he'd been putting off for so long had been made for him, but he didn't have to deal with them right that moment.

For now, he was wrapped up in everything that mattered most to him in the world.

"More, Tomi?" he murmured, as Tom's hand caressed over his hip.

"In a bit," Tom mumbled back. "I just want to enjoy this."

Bill nodded, tipping his head to one side and pursing his lips, kissing the nearest bit of skin within reach. It turned out to be a mole on Tom's shoulder. He knew exactly what Tom meant; dying tended to re-order one's priorities.

"Let's look at the bright side," Bill said, lifting up a handful of the sheet he'd shredded and letting it flutter back to their intertwined bodies like confetti. "It's a great excuse to redecorate, before the party."

"Party?" Tom replied suspiciously. "What party?"

Bill gave him a sweetly impish grin. " _Our_ party. The one we've put off too long already."

* * *

The front doorbell pealed yet again, and Tom shifted in the archway that led from front hallway to the kitchen, positioning himself yet again to watch Bill scamper happily to answer the door.

"Welcome to our housewarming party!" Bill exclaimed, greeting the person on their doorstep practically before he'd thrown the door wide enough to see who was there.

Tom couldn't quite contain the eyeroll, nor the faint grin that followed. From the moment they'd been sprung from Orion's very luxurious jail accommodations, Bill had thrown himself into the planning details of the housewarming he said they had put off for far too long. Tom considered it to be silly, but as in most things he was willing to indulge his twin.

The house and backyard were packed with everyone they knew, and a good amount of people Tom didn't know. Tom considered it to be a peculiarly human form of showing off – they had new property, and they were displaying it to everyone they knew to show how their status had changed. People from both sides of their circles of acquaintance were present, and at the very least the party was providing Tom with the amusement of seeing Chakuza and an overly-made up blond woman side by side with a wide-eyed Andreas and his pretty, rake-thin new boyfriend.

"Sabina!" Bill said effusively from the door, and Tom's head swung around again. His feet were moving before he realized as he prowled to the doorway, securing his arm around his twin and fixing their blond neighbor with a scrutinizing eye. "So good to have you here."

Tom managed to contain his smirk at that, dipping his head somewhat. Inviting the neighbors had been a social requirement, and thus Bill had done so out of human politeness.

"Oh, it's good to be here!" Sabina Vanderbeek cooed back, holding up a gigantic bottle of wine. There was a tall, lean man beside her, dark-haired with a neatly trimmed mustache. "We were all so worried for you when that gas leak blew up the side of your house!"

"Yes, thank the gods no one was home," Bill returned, straight-faced.

Tom scowled, his arm tightening without conscious thought around Bill. The thought of that moment was still complete anathema to Tom, so much that he'd considered having Martin sell the house so that they could purchase a new one. Bill had turned aside that notion, declaring it was more than good enough for the two of them to redecorate, as well as re-commit themselves to one another in virtually every room.

"And all of it happening on the day of that awful Wall breach," Sabina said, fanning at herself with a hand. "Such a scary reminder of how fragile our safety can be!"

"Isn't it," Tom agreed, baring his teeth at her.

Sabina blinked her big eyes up at him, seeming dumbstruck.

The man beside her extended his hand. "Kurt Vanderbeek," he said. "Pleasure to meet you both."

Bill shook his hand, dropping the touch quickly enough for Tom to do the same in quick succession. "Bill Kaulitz, and this is my spouse, Tom Kaulitz."

Tom raised a brow, but he thought that at last, Bill had arrived on a term they could both use in full agreement.

"Come in; we're being rude, keeping you on the doorstep," Bill said warmly, backing away from the open door and tugging Tom along with him. "I'm so glad the neighborhood accepted my invitation to drop by."

"Wouldn't have missed it!" Sabina said, seeming to regain her enthusiasm so long as Tom wasn't staring her down.

Tom bit his lip over a snicker; he knew that Bill's profession of gladness was a lie.

"Oh, and the wine is for you..." Sabina said, as she and Kurt trailed after them toward the kitchen.

"Thank you," Bill said with aplomb. "Right this way."

The couple behind them made soft noises of approval or perhaps awe as they moved through the house. Downstairs everything was the same lavish, modern setting as before – it was mostly upstairs that had been remodeled. The spacious kitchen was outfitted with all the latest gadgets anyone could possibly desire, including a brand new auto-cooker – "cooks the perfect meal so you don't have to," the ads had run. Tom figured they might as well give it a try seeing as neither of them knew how to, in any case.

"Well this is just fantastic!" Sabina exclaimed. "Isn't that the wonderful thing about brand new houses? Everything is so shiny and state of the art for now..."

"So what do you do for a living, Tom?" Kurt inquired. "Sabina says Bill is still in school, and you look about the same age."

Tom raised a brow at the older man. Kurt was around his height, maybe somewhat shorter. And he was basically asking how Tom could afford their gorgeous new home.

"I own property," Tom replied, before narrowing his eyes at Kurt. "I also do contract defense work."

"Defense work..." Kurt began slowly, peering closer at Tom. "You...?"

"Enjoy the party," Tom said, hooking his arm more closely around Bill's shoulders and steering him toward the backyard.

"Oh, look, honey – Maureen and Rupert are here..."

Sabina and Kurt were making a hasty escape.

Bill snickered at him as they stepped onto the deck that wrapped around the backside of the house but made no move to disengage Tom's hold on him.

For the past few weeks, ever since Orion had released them from their secure facility, Tom hadn't been able to let Bill out of his sight. Originally, Kellan had planned to shadow Bill full time as his bodyguard, but that had proved unnecessary. Tom had gone with Bill everywhere, literally everywhere from his waking breath to the moment they settled down together at the end of the night. He had shadowed Bill in his classes, on his trips to the bathroom, on his shopping expeditions, even while poring over every last detail of the home renovations. After a day or so Bill had relaxed about it and simply let Tom do it.

They'd had to get special permission from the Dean of Bill's college to enable Tom to sit beside Bill for all his final exams, but even that had been managed in collaboration with the Wall and City Defense Corps. Tom had been surprised to get an actual commendation from the city "in defense of New York and her citizens" – all for driving off his father.

Tom knew it wasn't over, with a brooding certainty that was with him nearly every waking moment.

"Hey," Bill said, nudging him and bringing Tom back into an awareness of the present. "It's okay."

Tom shrugged, uncomfortable with the notion. "For now," he allowed, scanning the faces of the assembled and checking for threats at a nearly unconscious level. After weeks of having Bill in his arms, keeping him within his sight, and being reassured that, for now, his resolve that they'd never be parted again would remain fulfilled, Tom still couldn't relax. A part of him was convinced that he never could.

Both Vergil and their father had proved why that was. Tom and Bill were twins, and the hand of every Nephilim would be set against them unless they stood on humanity's side.

"Mum!" Bill exclaimed, breaking Tom's train of thought and bouncing from his side over the deck to where Simone and Gordon had claimed the main pair of patio deck chairs beside a glass table laden with drinks.

"My Billy," Simone replied fondly, stretching an arm up and hooking him around the neck. "Lovely party, darling."

Tom came up around her other side, taking hold of the hand Simone set on the back of her chair, placing it within his range.

"Are you having fun?" Bill asked her, nuzzling her cheek and perching precariously on the arm of her chair for a moment.

"Loads," Simone said agreeably.

"Free alcohol," Gordon added, deadpan.

"You've still got that spare room upstairs, right, son?" Simone teased him. "In case we can't drive home?"

"Yeah, sure," Bill said, surprising Tom, who was attempting to telegraph with his face what a bad idea that was for both of them. All four of them, really. "But it's our house, our rules – and Tom and I never finish a day without a bout of toe-curling--"

"Never mind, understood; thanks for the offer and we'll find our way home somehow," Simone said hastily.

Gordon smiled benignly. "Even if we hire a cab, we shall manage. Thanks for hosting; the people-watching has been my favorite part."

Bill grinned, stooped to press a kiss to Simone's temple, and Tom gently squeezed his mother's hand.

"We'll see you later," Tom promised, clinking his drink against Gordon's before he went around Simone's chair to rejoin his twin.

"Can you imagine?" Bill whispered as they walked off, joining hands between them. "Our parents in the same house while we...ahh, you know?"

Tom regarded their twined fingers with bemusement. It was a particularly human gesture, one wrapped up in trust and vulnerability and a very open kind of affection. He loved holding Bill's hand, where he never would have been caught doing so with any lover when they'd lived in House Kaulitz.

His mind snapped back to the question. It shied away from it.

"I get why you invited Kellan, and Sinclair," Tom said, blatantly changing the subject and gesturing to the two Orion operatives who were lounging against the railing of the deck and chatting with a couple of Tom's more higher-ranked, reliable members of his posse. "But why those two?"

Bill smirked over at him. "Because it was fun," he replied simply, tugging on Tom's arm and guiding him down the steps toward Gustav and Georg, who were standing in a circle of conversation with the dark-haired, solidly built Wynne brothers. "Come on, let's keep circulating; we have to be polite, now."

With a frown, Tom let himself be guided.

The Wynne brothers were the two strongest Nephilim blood at the party, with the potential exception of Chakuza, who'd bristled the instant he had laid eyes on them. They were dressed in party casual, dark shirts made of expensive fabric over skinny jeans on Kory and dress slacks on Kyle. Each of them had a drink in hand and a pleasant expression, but there was a tension in the way they held themselves, as Tom did, that betokened they could spring into violence at a split second's notice.

Nephilim did parties. Tom had been to his fair share – the last one he'd been to had been his own sixteenth birthday bash, which had been a real blowout of an occasion. Instead of verbal sparring, though, Nephilim were prone to outright displays of aggression. Anything perceived as an insult was likely to be met with a punch to the face, or even a fight to the death.

Tom preferred Bill's party. Watching people bash each other into oblivion could be entertaining enough, but being able to circulate and drop in on polite conversation was a welcome change. Even the limited level of verbal sparring that had taken place had been amusing to Tom.

"Is everyone enjoying themselves?" Bill chirped, making a place for himself and Tom in between Gustav, who glanced up and stepped aside to make room, and Georg, who had been lifting a beer to Kory in a toast to whatever manly anecdote he'd been divulging.

"Of course," Gustav replied. "Great party." There was a sweet-faced redhead on his arm. She peered around him, her wide blue eyes meeting Tom's gaze, and shrank back into Gustav's half-embrace.

Tom gave a slight headshake, bemused. Girls seemed to have one of two reactions to him – inappropriate advances or the urge to hide.

All that and they hadn't even seen his penis.

"Bill, you're looking sexy as ever," Kory spoke up, aiming a broad, somewhat lascivious grin in Bill's direction.

Tom instinctively tightened his arm around Bill's waist, but didn't bother sending a glare in his direction. He'd let Bill fend off the man's advances. He wasn't entirely sure Kory meant it, in any case; and he'd made it more than clear that Tom was included in on the offer too. Unmated Nephilim tended to be freely promiscuous, including group sex when the desire took and all parties were willing.

They weren't into that, but in another life Tom might have found the offer to be flattering. He was happy with the life they had now.

The city Gate had been rebuilt, and the side of Tom and Bill's house had been reconstructed. There were still other important things to shore up, though, and Tom intended to see to it soon.

A light touch squeezed his hand. Tom glanced over at Bill with a smile. They had been given a second chance, for whatever reason, and he wouldn't waste it.


	15. Rewrite

"I'm glad you've joined us for this meeting," Division Head Loire said, his teeth displayed in a bright, eager smile as he held his hand out like an offering.

"You didn't leave us much choice," Tom observed, disdaining the handshake and keeping his hand right where it was, tucked beneath a bicep as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Tom," Bill uttered, the single chiding syllable putting Tom on notice that he was expected to behave for the duration of the meeting.

It was more negotiation than meeting, Tom thought darkly as he gave the Orion head of tactical operations a scant nod and stuck by Bill's side through the meet and greet. They had agreed to align themselves with Orion, and this follow up was to wrangle the terms.

 _I'll behave if they will,_ he thought at his twin, and was amused by the way Bill tossed his head in response, eyes flashing at Tom in brief annoyance. Tom's minute shifts in facial expression and body posture were enough to telegraph his opinions.

The discussion table had been limited to Division Head Loire and his tactician, Alicia Carson, about whom Tom had already heard from his twin. Tom and Bill were advocating for themselves.

"How is everything?" Loire asked them in a cheerful tone that grated on Tom's nerves. "I read in the report that your home sustained damages..."

"It's fixed," Tom said brusquely. "Let's get to the point. It's not like you invited us here for conversation and sandwiches."

Bill laid a warning hand on his arm, but said nothing to that.

"Fine," Alicia Carson said, passing her hand over a display panel set into the table. "That suits me. We want you to suspend all criminal activities in the fifth sector effective immediately."

Tom stared at her. "Why don't you ask me to cut my nuts off while you're at it?"

Bill made a small, indignant noise.

Tom wasn't sure whether it was in support or simply a proprietary reaction over the body part he'd named. He didn't particularly care, because this wasn't Bill's interests that Orion was going after – it was his own.

"Off the table," Tom said, his tone steely. "You can't tell me to hand over my operations to someone else."

Loire laced his fingers together. "Well, no," he said, his voice easing into a conciliatory register. "We want you to disband them, of course."

Tom blinked. Brow furrowing, he gazed back and forth from Loire to Carson for a long moment. They were _serious._

He threw his head back in an unfettered laugh – more a cackle than anything else, but it was a belly laugh unlike any he'd loosed since Bill had been taken from the city and killed. Orion was asking him, in all sincerity, to stamp out a ring of criminal activity.

Beside him, Bill was snickering.

"You two...don't know much about organized crime, do you?" Tom managed, wiping at the corners of his eyes. "You can have someone taken out. You can even see someone step down, willing or unwilling. But even if I were to systematically dismantle every racket and scheme that the fifth sector has going, the next _day_ after I walked away from it, the whole thing would be up and running again. Only Chakuza would be running it, or somebody strong enough to take it away from him."

Tom folded his hands together, leaning over the table to hold Loire's gaze and emphasize how serious he was, in turn. "That's what happens," he said earnestly. "So you can deal with a known factor – me – or you can deal with an unknown. But if I walked away, they would send someone after me to try and take care of their loose end."

Now Loire and Carson were frowning.

"And this whole thing started because someone was trying to hurt Bill," Tom reminded them. "I'm not going to let that happen. So, no. I reject that bargaining point, I won't do it."

"Told you that you couldn't take territory from a Nephilim," Carson muttered under his breath.

"It was worth a try!" Loire responded, his smile returning. "All right, you're rather attached to running the criminal operations of the fifth sector. What we would like, in that case, is instant reports on anything that might pose a potential threat to the city."

"That I can do," Tom replied at once.

"Wonderful," Loire said, rubbing his hands together. "Log it, Alicia. Effective this date."

"Tom," Bill spoke up, poking him with his elbow.

Tom glanced sidelong at Bill. "What?" he prompted.

"They just got you to spy for them," Bill pointed out. "For _free_. Let me do the negotiating from now on, all right?"

Tom's nostrils flared. He could have gotten them to _pay_ for that work? They'd distracted him by making it look like a wholesale territory grab. Instead of cursing or trying to retract the offer, he lapsed back into his seat and folded his arms over his chest. Payment for Bill's life, he reminded himself. There was no price – within reason – that was too large.

"What else do you want?" Bill asked them pleasantly, taking control of the conversation.

Carson bent her head, one finger drawing a line down the side of her display. Tom's brows rose. They had a list?

Of course they had a list.

"The territory beyond the Wall..." Carson began.

"You don't want me to occupy it," Tom interrupted, bored. "Got it. Not like that would have anything to do with humanity--"

Loire waved a hand. "No, you've got it wrong, this time."

"Excuse me, what?" Bill said blankly.

"We've been considering the territory beyond the Wall for several years," Carson said. "Since it was vacated, actually. We know all of that wide-open empty territory looks like a challenge to lower ranked Nephilim, or those without their own House. Yet if Shemyahza Guile were to take control of it, that would be a gauntlet thrown in the faces of all his enemies. He's a known factor, feared in the demon world..."

Tom began to nod slowly. "With me, enough people consider me to be affiliated with House Kaulitz that it would appear my father is extending his reach, so to speak."

Carson gave him a short, curt nod.

"You want me to take control of that territory?" Tom said, hardly believing his ears.

"Without a Nephilim controlling it, the attacks of the lesser demons have been erratic, and a lot of incompatible sub-species are fighting to move in. It's causing chaos out there," Carson said. "Not to mention...inviting in someone of our choosing is a great deal more desirable than being forced to cope with whoever decides to come along and take it."

"Once they get over the superstition that it's cursed," Tom said ironically.

"There is that," Carson said, drumming her unpainted nails over the surface beside her display.

"We're not in a position to do that right now," Bill said.

Tom took in a quick breath through his nose, but a brief sidelong glance at Bill convinced him to stay silent.

"We're both very busy," Bill continued, his manner apologetic. "I have school, Tom has his...business interests..."

Tom was pretty sure the demon blood amongst his staff would be intrigued at the prospect of taking over the New York territory outside the Wall, but it was an enormous venture. He would have to see who was committed to it. At the very least, he'd need to recruit a stronger second than Chakuza. And going up against full-blood Nephilim...

"We're not ready yet," Tom added his thoughts to Bill's. "My father showed us that much. Bill needs to learn to fight, and I can't teach him."

Beside him, Bill sniffed loudly, but didn't disagree. Their first few attempts at sparring over the past weeks had ended up in some very heated sex instead. They could get annoyed with one another, even mad at each other, but any disagreement or attempt at hand to hand fighting had resulted in the same conclusion.

"We can find someone for that," Carson murmured, her hands dancing into motion over the surface of her display, tapping out a command or a reminder.

Loire made a disgruntled noise. "Like you found them a mentor?"

Bill produced an outraged squeak while Tom grunted.

"Tried to _what?_ " Bill demanded.

"Nothing. Forget that!" Loire said hastily.

"Why would you even...?" Tom said, mystified. "Isn't that something human children undergo?"

Bill made a noise that left Tom unsure as to whether his twin was exasperated or angry. "Wow, you failed miserably on that front."

Tom frowned his way from Carson to Bill and back again. "Mentor?" he repeated, protesting the very use of the term.

"There were limited options," Carson replied, spreading her hands. "And, Tom, it's a term used for someone who has more experience in a specialized field of knowledge. It's not limited by age range."

Tom shrugged, rolling his shoulders back. He still thought they were too old for 'mentors.' They were adults, and Tom had been taking care of himself for a long time.

"At any rate, just give us your criteria and we'll see who we can find..."

"Vergil?" Bill ventured.

"He's gone back to San Francisco," came the reply.

"Someone with similar or greater power levels," Bill said, folding his arms. "Otherwise they're wasting my time."

"Someone mated," Tom added with a dark scowl, thinking of Kory Wynne hitting on Tom's own mate again.

"Someone who knows how to fight..."

"Someone here in the city..."

"Cal Pierce or Shemyahza Guile," Carson said, cutting off their catalog. "Pierce isn't the best teacher, and he's commander of the city defense corps so timing could be an issue. Guile is..."

"Guile is Guile," Tom finished, frowning again. The thought of his twin being near someone so notorious as well as powerful made his skin prickle. And yet, they'd need to learn to deal with that level of power, that of a true Nephilim. "Wait, Guile is mated?"

"For a few years now," Carson replied, looking down at her display again. "Now, let's get to the next point on my agenda...we'll be drafting up a contract, by the way, which I expect both of you to sign in the presence of a psychic notary who can verify your intentions."

Tom sighed while Bill merely rolled his eyes.

They went through tedious requirements – amongst them a reaffirmation of their commitment to the defense of humanity. Once Bill was trained in fighting, they would be called upon for select jobs of a nature requiring their strength and power level, or catastrophic situations where the city itself was in danger.

"My first loyalty is to Bill," Tom warned them, as the meeting was winding down and Carson appeared to be reaching the end of her exhaustive agenda. "If there's any circumstance where he appears to be in danger, I'll be taking action to protect him before anything else."

Carson regarded him with a frown for a long moment before turning to her boss.

"That will have to do," Loire said with a pleasant smile. "We certainly can't require you to act against your nature."

Tom's brow arched.

"So glad you approve," Bill spoke up, sounding waspish. "The same goes for me, by the way. If Tom's in danger, and a bus-load of Orion contractors are in danger, I'm going for Tom."

Loire and Carson nodded.

"What else?" Tom asked. He toyed briefly with the notion of asking Orion to make sure their paths wouldn't cross with the Wynnes during the course of whatever they were asked to do, then abandoned the notion. The way Bill had negotiated, they would be contracting any time they loaned their powers for the city's defense. Putting up with some attitude with Kory could be entertaining – especially if Tom unleashed a bit of his power in response to any impertinence directed at Bill's person.

Carson looked at her display for a moment, spreading both hands across its smooth surface. "What happened the night Bushido died?"

Silence reigned in the conference room for a moment, and Tom didn't even dare glance toward his twin. He couldn't risk saying anything that would incriminate Bill, and he knew at the same time that Bill wouldn't say anything to make either of them appear guilty. They had refrained from showing Bushido's image to Bill during that meeting where they had paraded his kills before him in a tacit threat to get him to sign up for Orion's side. That had failed. For all Tom knew, if either of them admitted to the kill now, it would be added weight to Orion for future leverage – or something they could use immediatey, to conclude the negotiations.

Keep it simple as possible, Tom decided at last.

"He tried to take Bill from me," Tom replied, matter of fact. He saw no reason not to answer the question so long as he was careful. "So he died, and I took everything from him, in turn."

"You killed him," Alicia said, her blue eyes boring into his.

Tom shrugged. He didn't see any reason to specify. It was all the same to him – Bushido had made an attempt on his Bill, and in doing so, he'd turned a gun on Tom.

He might as well have turned it toward himself and pulled the trigger.

"It doesn't matter," Loire said. "We don't need to know, at this point – what's done is in the past, and we need to move forward."

"I agree," Tom said with a bob of his head. His foot nudged against Bill's and his twin turned to give him incandescent eyes, lips slightly parted, demeanor putting Tom on notice that it was a good thing he'd gotten his car reinforced to withstand their careless strength.

"I wanted to close the file," Carson said. After a significant look from her boss, she shrugged. "I suppose that's close enough."

Death by Kaulitz, Tom inferred, and he took Bill's hand. He was satisfied with the outcome. They weren't indebted to Orion, exactly. The terms they had wrangled back and forth were reasonable. They would continue on as they had, with occasional interruptions of their lives to lend assistance where it would be needed. Bill would get trained up by a Nephilim powerful enough and qualified to do the job. And Tom had the time and breathing space he needed to calculate his next move – not against humanity, but against Jorg himself.

Claiming the New York territory might get his father to move rashly. If Tom had an entire power base plus Orion behind him...well, that could provide him the edge he needed.

"Come on," Bill said, patting Tom's arm. "We've got a gig to play."

"Let's get this signed," Tom told Loire. "I've got Bill to do and venues to play."

Carson sighed but the division head merely laughed. "Ah, to be young and so full of vigor once more," Loire remarked.

The contract was settled, placing them one step closer to a surety of the safety for which Tom had bargained by putting their allegiance on the line. For Tom, questions still remained. If his father had come to reclaim Tom for the House and leave Bill dead on the ground behind him...what had caused him to leave them both alive?

Would he still do the same, knowing they'd pledged themselves to humanity's cause?

* * *

One hand lofted toward the rafters, finger upraised, Bill gyrated onstage with his sweaty face lifted. His eyes were closed as the music thrummed through his body, through his very soul, and he brought the microphone to his lips to croon the last line of the song.

As the screams washed over him, Bill grinned and let his eyes open at last. It wasn't approval he craved; he didn't need outside validation, but being center stage like this, focus of the attention of every single person in the room, was one of his most addictive drugs.

"Thank you so much!" Bill shouted into his microphone, giving a brief bow before dancing offstage.

Tom wasn't far behind him and Bill turned with a coy smile, holding his arms up, towel already draped around his sweaty neck.

"Please, guys, not here," Georg begged, joining them in the wings of the stage as Bill backed up against the wall, drawing Tom along with him by the simple expedient of grabbing the belt that kept his sagging jeans from collapsing.

"Here and everywhere else we want," Tom contradicted, dragging his mouth along the side of Bill's jaw and making him gasp, eyes falling shut as he concentrated on the pure pleasure of Tom's lips on him.

"There's a scout," Gustav said quietly, coming up behind them. "At the bar."

Bill palmed Tom's face away from his neck, straightening up with a cheery grin and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Ooh, really? Someone came to see our music?"

"Yeah, he might leave if you guys take the time to do each other," Georg added.

Bill rolled his eyes at Georg's transparent attempt to keep him from succumbing to his twin's advances. Unfortunately for Tom, it was working. "Come on, Tomi, let's go see what the man wants," Bill said, grabbing Tom's hand as it moved in for his fly and twining their fingers, instead. "And depending on what he says, we'll go have celebratory or pick-me-up sex after."

Tom's brows pinched together in a frown but apparently he deemed it an acceptable compromise. He grunted and gave a slight nod, following when Bill pushed off from the wall against which he'd been pinned.

"This could be it, Tom," Bill said over his shoulder as he led Tom from the backstage area to thread through the crowd of the nightclub they had played that evening. He picked up a trailing end of his towel to blot delicately at his jaw. He was very much aware he was sweaty, to the point his makeup was probably beginning to run at the corners of his eyes, but he certainly didn't want the critic to escape.

"We'll see," Tom replied, his expression skeptical. "Remember how it turned out the last time we got scouted."

Bill didn't respond, scanning across the packed bar as he walked toward it. True, last time they'd been 'scouted' it had turned out to be members of Orion. Fortunately, that problem was behind them and they hadn't even had to pledge too much of their lives away.

It turned out to be an older man seated at the bar, his eyes tracking them with interest as they approached.

Bill bounced right up, Tom in tow. "Hello," he said to the man directly. "I'm Bill Kaulitz, of Tokio Hotel."

The man was handsome, with neatly-trimmed sandy blond hair and an engaging smile that lit his face. He set his drink down, brushing a hand over his slacks before offering it to Bill. "Benjamin Ebel," he replied. "Martin sent me your way. I've been listening to your music and wondered if you'd considered getting a manager, working with a production team..."

Bill grinned from ear to ear. "We'd love that," he enthused. "Tom has an office in the back. Why don't we talk more about that?" The glance he shot over his shoulder at Tom was intended to broadcast his certainty that they'd made it, at last.

There was no question in Bill's mind that he was doing not only what he loved, but what he was meant for in this life.

* * *

A growl issued from Tom's throat as his hand was slapped away from Bill's hip for the third time in far too short an interval.

"Not _now_ ," Bill said with exasperation, ignoring Tom with a studiousness that he rarely displayed. "I should have my exam results in five minutes or less, then I'm all yours."

"For now," Tom replied, morose about it. He'd have Bill – and _have_ him, and have him repeatedly – for the duration of the winter recess period for school before he'd have to surrender him to that daily time-drain once again. Then they'd return to hours of sitting in dull classrooms once more, as Bill picked up his schooling and Tom, despite his best efforts to while away the hours with mindless games as he propped his chin in hand, learned by sheer proximity.

Bill flashed him a brief, coy smile. "For always," he replied, before returning his attention to his mobile.

The week that had led up to Bill's final exams had been very boring for Tom, except for the intermittent bouts of wild, intense sex that Bill claimed as 'study breaks.' Where Bill went, Tom went – even if they weren't going out at all, in order for Bill to stay in and study.

Tom was taking up hobbies – internet shopping and video and canned 'feed trawling amongst them. There was only so many times a demon could watch music vids from the first half of the twenty-first century without going insane, however.

In a way, Tom felt misled. He didn't mind guarding Bill's body around the clock, but he'd been under the impression Bill would be learning to defend himself – and soon. Tom would be able to resume his own vocational activities putting down rogue demons and managing the undercurrent of local criminal affairs. At that point, he anticipated Bill would be able to put up a decent amount of resistance during their sparring matches before it dissolved into passionate sex.

That reminded him... Tom reached for Bill's partly-exposed hip again where his shirt was riding up to expose the black triple star.

"No!" Bill snipped, smacking at Tom's fingers again, and he meant it. He really wasn't going to let Tom have him, despite the fact that they had no other commitments for the day. Without even looking at Tom, Bill scrolled through his mail notifications

Tom gazed incredulously for a moment before shaking his head and shifting away from Bill on the couch, intending to grab the remote and cycle through feeds until he found something remotely worth his attention. He slumped into a posture that Bill would deem 'sulking' but Tom would accurately label as 'bored.' No sex, no gig to practice for that evening, and he hadn't been on a contracting job to pulverize something in _weeks_. Tom was sure he would go insane in short order.

Bill squeaked and began to clap the tips of his fingers together. "Tom, Tom!" he exclaimed.

The mobile in Bill's lap was chirping with notifications. There were five emails – one for each and every class, Tom knew, because he'd attended each and every one over the course of the past few weeks. On one level it had been fantastic to enjoy such closeness to Bill, being present for his twin's every waking moment.

On another, Tom had been certain he was going to do something suicidal for his sex life, he'd become that convinced Bill was wasting all that time in the pursuit of studies that ultimately would not impact their lives.

"How did you do?" Tom asked, managing to sound reasonably supportive as he draped a hand over Bill's shoulder, peering at the mobile display.

Bill opened each in rapid-fire succession, producing a high-pitched noise that sounded triumphant and distressed all at once. "Aced them!" he exclaimed, and added a quiet, wordless squee.

Tom laughed and tugged Bill into the crook of his arm. "Of course you did," he said, pressing a kiss to Bill's temple. "You made sure it was your first priority."

"Well," Bill mumbled, tossing aside his mobile and collapsing back into Tom's lap. "Not _first_. I wanted to prove I could do it."

"You did," Tom said, nosing from hairline to cheek and bestowing a kiss there, too. "You get to keep your scholarship."

"I've earned the right to keep it," Bill said reflectively. He nestled closer into Tom's arms, twisting around until they were face to face, Bill's head on Tom's thigh, Tom bent over Bill with his sweetly tousled hair, a promise in his eyes and excited smile on his lips. "But I won't. Someone else can have it; I'm done with school for now. Maybe for good."

Tom blinked at him, speechless for a moment. He was unable to resist the draw that Bill's proximity exerted on him, and he bent to bestow a kiss to the corner of Bill's mouth. "You sure?" he whispered, brushing their noses together.

"Sure as I am we were born for each other. I'm going forward with the music, and going forward with you," Bill said. "It's everything I need in my life, for now."

A swell of possessive affection, of something more primal and essential than words, gripped Tom and he gathered Bill into his arms, expressing it through physicality. "And going forward with training," Tom reminded him. "So that I can never lose you again."

Bill nodded, his jaw taut and his mouth solemn. "I need that kind of training more than college schooling," he replied. "Balancing that with our music, our lives together...it's enough, you know? Meeting our father – being killed by him – taught me that. And once I'm all trained up?"

"We'll leave that for the future to decide," Tom said. There were questions unsolved, chess pieces in play for which there was no answering move, yet. The one certainty in his life that remained to him was that Tom had his other half, his missing piece, and from this point on there would be no separating them.

Not in this life, or the next.

+end+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd originally planned the third installment to be the end of the Nephilim twins stories, but as I was working my way through this one, it became clear to me there was one more left. Part of this is simply due to the way this one unfolded; and the fact that it isn't time yet for the kind of climactic showdown that will be necessary. So there will be a fourth story, a final follow-up. No promises on a time frame but please look forward to the conclusion of the Nephilim series. :)


End file.
